The Same Blue Eyes
by lisbonandjanealways
Summary: What if Red John was content with murdering Jane's wife, and left him with a terrible cliffhanger and kidnapped his daughter? Could she still be out there? J/L friendship, will turn into romance. Rated T for language. No copyright infringement intended.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Just stop and imagine this. A world where, yes, Red John did take everything away from Patrick Jane. He did kill his wife, but instead of murdering his little girl along with her, he left a terrible cliffhanger for Jane and kidnapped her instead. Could his daughter still be out there?

A/N: Yes, I'm back! I wrote this chapter and rewrote this chapter too many times. I hope you like my story about a young girl named Lela Benson, someone who is all too familiar to Jane.

And don't worry. It'll start off with Jane/Lisbon friendship, and end in romance :]

Rated T for language.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_Patrick Jane jerked awake from yet another terrible nightmare._

_Red John._

_The worst part about having these nightmares was that he had to wake up to the haunting red smiley face just above him. He supposed this was partly his fault. He was the one who chose not to scrub it off._

_Jane rose from his bed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen._

_He was surprised to find a birthday cake sitting on the kitchen counter, with a large "13" candle that was lit._

_Jane turned and looked around, half-expecting someone to be standing behind him. There was no one._

_But when he turned back around, he flinched. A young girl was standing by the counter, grinning at him. She had curly blonde hair and light blue eyes. _

_When Jane stepped closer, he got a better look at the cake._

_In pink icing, it read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARLOTTE!"_

_He sucked in a breath, glancing up at the girl again. She was smiling at him. "Thanks for the cake, Daddy," she said before blowing out the candles._

Jane gasped and launched up on the couch, blinking away the tears that were beginning to form behind his eyes. Grace Van Pelt stopped what she was typing at the computer next to him and stared at him. "You okay, Jane?"

He glanced over at her and tried to smile reassuringly. "Yeah. Just a bad dream." He rose from the couch and stalked out of the bullpen, feeling Grace's eyes on him the entire way out.

He walked down the hall as fast as he could, without even a glance into Teresa Lisbon's office, where he knew her own curious eyes were following him.

He hurried up the stairs to the attic, taking two stairs at a time. He plopped down on his makeshift bed, dropped his head into his hands, and tried desperately to stop the damned tears that had somehow begun to come even faster and bigger as he walked up the stairs.

His eyes widened in horror when he heard footsteps trudging up the staircase. He wiped at his eyes, panicking. Nobody should see him like this…

"Jane?" came Lisbon's soft voice in the doorway.

He sighed in defeat, wiping at his eyes again. "Yeah?" he asked, voice cracking.

With a sympathetic look on her face, Lisbon sat down next to him. She slid her hand around his and stared at him until he was forced to look her directly in the eye.

"What's the matter, Jane?" she finally said.

"Nothing."

"You lie."

"Never."

She snorted. "Good one."

"I'm fine, Lisbon. Really, I am."

"Tell me why you were so upset."

He shook his head.

"Why won't you tell me?" Lisbon demanded.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It certainly matters to me."

"Why?"

She groaned, exasperated. She ripped her hand from his. "Because you're my friend, Jane! And I hate seeing you so upset! Please tell me what's wrong."

"Fine. You want to know? It's my daughter's birthday today." He smirked.

Her mouth clamped shut, and her eyes suddenly lost its anger and went back to sympathetic and sorry. "Oh," was all she could manage to say.

"Thirteen," he whispered. He swallowed hard, and blinked. Those damn tears were about to return to him, and he tried to curse them away. They wouldn't go, and Lisbon reached up and caught one that fell on his cheek. "Damn. She'd be a _teenager." _He sniffed.

"Hey, hey," she said gently. "Don't cry, Jane."

_Easier said than done, _he thought bitterly.

"You never know. She may still be out there." Lisbon tried to smile.

He let out a little laugh.

"I'm not kidding, Jane."

"Yeah, I really didn't think it was that funny, anyways."

"Jane, seriously."

He met her eyes again. "Lisbon, do you _honestly _believe that she could be still alive?" He almost choked on his words. "Do you think that _eight years _after she was taken by _Red John, _the sadistic, notorious serial killer that slaughtered her mother and is hell-bent on keeping her father as unhappy as possible, that there is actually even a small chance that she's still alive?"

"Red John is a sick man, Jane," Lisbon replied. "You never know what might go on through his head."

Jane paused, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

She pondered this. "Think about this. If he had killed her, he would have made her body visible to the public, and most importantly, to _you. _Right?"

"Right…"

"Maybe he still has her. I mean, did you ever think about that?"

He stared at her. "Of _course _I did, Lisbon. I thought about every damn scenario there is."

"Then don't lose your hope. Or your faith," his boss whispered, giving him a small smile. "Please."

Without another word, she stood up from the makeshift bed and left, not even glancing back to notice that Jane had begun to cry again.

XXXX

He was ashamed to show his face downstairs again. Thankfully, Cho and Rigsby were at lunch at the moment and wouldn't suspect anything, but Grace would surely figure it out, and Lisbon of course already knew.

But he had to go back down. He couldn't hide upstairs forever.

Grace's curious gaze haunted him as he walked into the bullpen. She smiled warmly at him. "Jane? Are you sure you're alright?"

He tried to smile back. "Yeah, Gracie. I'm fine." Inwardly, there was a real smile. He knew what she'd think of her new nickname.

She cringed. "Don't call me that."

Jane laughed for the first time today. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, returning to her keyboard.

"Why does the nickname bother you?" Jane asked, now finding himself on a quest.

"Just drop it, Jane."

"You tell me, and I'll tell you why I left so unexpectedly and so obviously on the verge of pathetic, humiliating tears." His smile widened, knowing that she would not pass up the opportunity.

Grace sighed. "Fine. My dad always called me Gracie as a kid."

"And?"

"And… we just don't really see eye-to-eye anymore." She looked away.

"Why is that?" Jane sat down on his couch and leaned forward.

"Does it matter?" she snapped, but immediately glanced over with brown eyes that said sorry.

Of course it mattered. Jane hated feeling powerless. He hated when he didn't know absolutely everything that was going on. Of course he needed to know why Grace and her father didn't get along. "Yeah. It does matter, Grace. Please tell me."

She groaned, gave up trying to work, and spun in her chair to face him. "He wanted a daughter that turned out to be the complete opposite."

"How so?"

"He wanted a little girl that hoped to be Miss America or a princess when she grew up. He wanted a daughter that played dress-up and played tea party with her stuffed animals. Instead, he got a girl who always dreamt of being a cop. A daughter who tracked down every toy gun she could find and pretended to shoot everything and everyone with it." She shook her head.

Jane snorted. "Well then he's an ass. He shouldn't have been disappointed. Grace, just because you're a cop doesn't mean you aren't a beautiful woman with a liking to shopping and hairspray." He chuckled. "You like what you do. That's all that he should care about." _At least he has a daughter, _he wanted to say but didn't.

She considered this, and a small smile twitched at her lips. "Thanks, Jane."

He smiled back and nodded.

"Your turn," she said suddenly.

His smile faded. Obviously his mind games didn't work, and she did still remember that he had to hold up his end of the bargain. He stood up. "Oh. That. It's nothing."

"What?" Grace exclaimed. "That isn't fair!"

"No one said life was fair."

She rolled her eyes. "That's such a typical comeback, especially from you!"

He shrugged.

"Come on, Jane!" She took a step toward him and nudged him. "What's bugging you?"

He studied the redhead's expression, debating whether or not he should tell her. As much as he hated to be fair, Grace was always so loyal to him. She was always the one to fall for his tricks, and the poor dear trusted him _still._ "Today is my little girl's birthday," he whispered.

Grace's hopeful smile vanished and she shifted uncomfortably.

"You don't need to look so guilty about it," Jane said with a laugh. "I shouldn't be sad. It's a day to celebrate. Thirteen years ago, it was the greatest day of my life."

Grace blinked. "She'd be thirteen?"

He noted how she said it as if it was a solid fact that Charlotte was dead. "Yes."

"How old was she when… you know?"

"Five." Eight years. Had it really been eight years?

"I'm so sorry, Jane," she said softly.

He was about to respond, but Lisbon walked into the bullpen. "Jane?" she said in a troubled voice.

He turned around. "What?"

"We have a case."

"Okay… You're white as a ghost. What's the matter?"

She hesitated. "Jane, it's Red John," she said. "He killed a teenage girl today."

XXXX

The drive to the crime scene was silent. Jane stared out the passenger window as Lisbon drove, throwing glances in his direction every now and then.

Jane knew that this was all part of Red John's sick game. Murdering a teenager on Jane's daughter's birthday. As if he wasn't in _enough _pain.

Lisbon pulled up to a house surrounded by police cars and yellow tape. She cut the engine and looked over at Jane. "Are you sure you're okay to go through with this case?"

He looked over at her and smiled. "Of course. Why not?" He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, stalking to the front door of the house with Lisbon close on his heels.

Entering the house, they went to the living room, which was filled with cops and coroners. Jane's heart stopped when he saw the red smiley face on the wall, and he knew Lisbon's did, too, by the way she let out a small gasp.

It was horrible.

A sobbing mother in the corner, a grieving father with his arms around her shoulders, and a younger sister seated on the sofa, staring blankly at the bloodied body.

Oh, the body.

It was definitely Red John.

"What do we got?" Lisbon whispered hoarsely to one of the local cops.

"Ashlyn McGregor. Sixteen. Seems that she came home from school and was ambushed by Red John," the sheriff explained.

"Where were the parents? And… is that her sister?"

The police officer nodded. "Yes. The parents were working and the younger sister arrived home later than Ashlyn."

Jane took one step closer to the body, his blood running cold. She had red-brown hair, a heart-shaped face, and tan skin. Her eyes were open, and they were a muddy brown. She looked just like Angela. _I'm going to get him, Ashlyn, _Jane promised the girl silently. _I swear to you. I will._

The coroners took Ashlyn's body away and the local officers went to do some investigating, leaving Jane and Lisbon with the grieving family.

"I'm very, truly sorry for your loss," Lisbon said.

"Thank you." Mrs. McGregor sniffed. "She was such an amazing girl. I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt her."

"Red John does many things that are… uncalled for," Jane told her softly.

The husband snorted. "_Uncalled for _is an understatement."

As Lisbon began her whole question-answer process, Jane got a good look at the sister for the first time. Curly blond hair and blue eyes. She looked nothing like the victim, or the parents. She wasn't crying, nor did she look even grief-stricken.

Hmm…

"Mrs. McGregor, do you mind if we speak to your daughter? Alone?" Jane asked, interrupting Lisbon.

Mrs. McGregor gave the girl a look that really did resemble… anger? Maybe even… hate?

"Trust me. She doesn't care," the girl spoke for the first time. She stood up from the couch and stomped out of the room, leaving Jane and Lisbon confused.

"Ungrateful little brat," Mr. McGregor growled.

Jane scrunched his brows together, but turned and followed Ashlyn McGregor's sister. Uncomfortable with the situation, Lisbon excused herself and followed Jane.

They found the young girl sitting at the table in the dining room, glaring at the wall.

"Hi, sweetheart," Lisbon said gently.

The girl looked up. "Hi."

"I'm sorry to be so demanding. But what the hell was that all about?" Jane asked curtly.

"Jane!" Lisbon scolded him.

"What! I apologized in advance!"

"No, it's fine," said the girl. "Well, the first thing you should know is that I'm not their daughter. Ashlyn is their daughter. I'm in foster care. They, uh, can't stand me."

Jane pulled back, surprised. "Wait, what?"

She sighed. "I jump around foster homes all the time. The McGregors house is only just a stop. My name is Lela Benson."

Jane and Lisbon exchanged a glance.

"Why can't they stand you, Lela?" Lisbon asked awkwardly.

Lela shrugged. "Not sure. All I know is they don't give a damn about me. They keep me around so they get their check every month."

"How old are you?" Jane wondered aloud.

"I'm thirteen." She flushed. "Today is my birthday. They didn't remember, nor do they care."

Lisbon looked at Jane, but Jane stared at Lela.

"What?" the girl asked.

Jane shook his head. "Nothing. Happy birthday."

She smiled. "Thank you. The only birthday wish I actually got today."

Lisbon spoke this time. "Ashlyn didn't wish you happy birthday?"

Lela sighed. "No. She didn't like me either."

"Why would the McGregors take in a foster kid when they already had a daughter, and treat you like shit and the other like a princess?" Jane demanded, almost angrily.

Lisbon gasped. "Jane!"

"No, it's fine. Really," Lela assured her. "I don't have an answer for that. I wish I did, but I don't." She shrugged. "It happens in pretty much every foster home I'm in. The parents treat me like dirt and pamper their own children to the point of annoyance. Because they were angels sent from Heaven, don'tcha know?" she added sarcastically. All of a sudden, she looked at Jane. "What's your personal problem with Red John?"

He tensed, startled. "What?"

"Obviously, everyone hates the guy. He's a sick serial killer. Duh. But you've got something on him more personal than just an irritated cop that has to clean up his messes."

Jane and Lisbon both stared at her.

"What?" she asked uneasily.

"He killed my wife and kidnapped my daughter," he blurted out, and watched shock cross her face.

"Oh," she breathed. "I'm… so sorry…"

He shrugged. "I will find and kill the man who murdered your foster sister," he promised. "I swore to my wife, and my daughter, Ashlyn… and even myself."

Lela nodded slowly. "I don't doubt that. You seem like you have the potential."

Lisbon drew back. "What?"

The girl glanced at her. "Huh?" she asked, obviously startled by Lisbon's surprise.

"What do you mean by 'the potential'?"

Lela Benson peeked at Jane, then back at Lisbon. "Well, isn't it obvious?"

Jane and Lisbon exchanged a glance.

Lela sighed again. "Underneath all of this smart-aleck behavior that annoys the crap out of Miss Lisbon here-" She nodded at Teresa, then looked back to Jane. "-there's pain, even if sometimes you don't let it show. I mean, obviously it's quite understandable if you lost both your wife and daughter, who, judging by the way both of you reacted to hearing my age, she'd be around thirteen, right?"

Jane nodded slowly, dumbfounded.

She went on. "As reserved as you seem, that's a sign that you are silently and carefully plotting your revenge on the bastard that consistently ruins the lives of so many innocent people." She looked back and forth from Jane to Lisbon. "Am I right?"

"Uh-" Lisbon choked out, but Jane interrupted her.

"It was lovely talking to you, Lela, but we really should get going." He stood up from the table. "Come on, Lisbon," he said, never taking his eyes off of Lela.

The girl knitted her brows together. "Um, okay. Bye."

Jane and Lisbon escaped out the front door with quick promises to Mr. and Mrs. McGregor that justice would eventually be served. They walked quickly and silently to the SUV, hands shoved in their pockets. Jane could see Lisbon peering at him, but he pretended not to notice. When they got in the car, Jane sat in his chair and stared forward, but Lisbon turned to him immediately. "Jane."

"What?"

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I doubt it. But I'll let you have your fun. What are you thinking?"

She took a deep breath. "Paternity test."

His eyes widened and he whipped his head to stare in her direction. "_What?_"

"Oh, come on, Jane! All the signs are there!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"That girl in there could very well be your daughter!"

He snorted and faced forward again.

"Would you just listen to me for a second?" Lisbon exclaimed, bringing on hand to Jane's cheek and forcing him to look at her. "Listen to me! I would _not _be surprised if her name wasn't really Lela."

"It's not Charlotte."

"What if it was?"

"I'd know if it was."

"Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn't. Jane, it's been eight years."

"Has it? Ah, thanks for reminding me."

She rolled her eyes. "Think about it, Jane. She's in foster care. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Honestly, if you got a good look at her, practically a spitting image of you. She turned thirteen _today _and-" Her hand flung out to gesture towards the house. "Did you _hear _all that crap she was saying? It sounded _exactly _like you. Exactly like you!" She folded her arms and leaned back. "I'm telling you. She could be your girl."

He huffed. "And what if she isn't?" he demanded. "What if, for some crazy, hypothetical reason, we did get a paternity test. She'd be all excited about _maybe _having a real father. I'd be all excited about _maybe _having my little girl again. What if it wasn't a match? Bam. Disappointment. Next thing you know, I'm back to my revenge-craving self and she's back to her own personal hell in those foster homes." He threw his head back against the seat. "Besides, it's betting against all odds. Charlotte's dead. I know she is."

Lisbon stared at him, but suddenly reached forward to touch his hand. He lifted his head up.

"Red John is a sick man," she whispered for the second time that day. "He plays games. Do you really think it's just a _coincidence _that he randomly killed the foster-sister of a girl who has all the qualities and likeliness of being your daughter?"

"Coincidences do happen, Lisbon."

"Not with Red John, they don't."

Jane glanced back at the house, thinking.

On some level, Lisbon was right. If Jane knew for sure that Charlotte was still out there, Lela Benson would be a good candidate to check out, just to be sure she wasn't his girl. _If _they did get tested, he'd have to make sure that she didn't know for sure what was going on so she didn't get her hopes up.

"Okay, fine," Jane finally said. "Set up an appointment."

A/N: How did you guys like it? It's kind of a long chapter, I know. I hope you weren't too bored, but thank you very, very much for reading!

It seems like in every fic I write, Jane and Grace have some sort of loving friendship moment. Don't worry! I like them as strictly good friends, nothing more. Jisbon forever!

Tbc?


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews! I honestly didn't know if anyone would like this fic. No Jisbon… yet. :]**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"Um… where are we going exactly?" Lela Benson asked from the backseat of the SUV.

"The clinic," Lisbon, the driver, explained.

"Why?" Lela sat up straighter. "Is something wrong? Were the McGregors hurt at work or something?"

Jane turned in his seat to smile reassuringly at her. "No. They weren't hurt."

"Then why are we going to the clinic?"

Jane thought up a quick story.

"When's the last time you had a check-up, Lela?" Jane said.

The girl crossed her arms. "Don't know. Long time. Why?"

He shrugged. "It seems as if you've been through a lot in your life, and no offense to Mr. and Mrs. McGregor, but they don't seem like the kind of people that would take you into the hospital for a check-up."

She still seemed confused.

"It's just… good to get checked, that's all." Lisbon smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

"Uh, well, okay. But why do you guys care?" She said it as if it were a rhetorical question.

"Because we're cops and it's our job."

Jane could tell that Lela still doubted this, but she just shrugged and stared out the window.

When they reached the clinic, Jane and Lisbon led the way inside with a confused Lela trailing along behind. Jane and Lela sat down in the waiting room while Lisbon went up to the front desk.

"Why am I really here?" Lela whispered quietly.

"For a check-up," Jane said, feigning innocence.

"Cut the crap."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

He chuckled at her stubborn forwardness. "I'm serious, Lela. You're in here for a check-up."

"That doesn't make any sense! You guys obviously must have better things to do. Don't you have bad guys to catch?"

"Not today."

"Ah. Is today the day of the year that all criminals take a vacation? I thought it was next week."

Little smartass, Jane thought bitterly. "Yes, today is the day," he said smugly.

She rolled her eyes and picked up a magazine.

"Lela, why is it so hard for you to believe that we are here just to see if you're alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be alright?"

"Answer the question."

"You answer mine."

He huffed. "You first."

"Fine." She set the magazine down. "Because you're strangers."

He watched her and waited, but when she didn't go on, he sighed and said, "And?"

"And this seems like such a selfless thing to do. To take time off work and bring in a troubled girl you barely know for a check-up." She shrugged. "The parents in most of the foster homes I've been in wouldn't even do that."

Jane felt sympathy tug at his heart. "We're not exactly strangers. Cops," he murmured, and he broke eye contact.

Lisbon returned and took the open seat next to Jane. "Idiots," she muttered.

Jane smiled at her irritation. "What happened?"

"When I made this appointment, I specifically explained that it wasn't for me. It was for a friend. I said it about a thousand times, and guess who they think the patient is?"

Might as well play along. "Teresa Lisbon?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Idiots."

Jane glanced back to make sure the younger girl wasn't listening, then leaned in to whisper in Lisbon's ear. "Thank you for coming with me."

She gave him a small smile. "I know of your fear of doctors," she whispered back.

He pulled back. "Hey. I am not afraid of doctors."

"You are!"

"Am not!"

Lela looked at both of them. "It's okay, Mr. Jane. I am, too."

The left side of Lisbon's mouth pulled into a cocky smile as she looked at Jane. "Huh. What a coincidence."

"I'm not afraid of doctors!" he mumbled sharply.

Lisbon winked at him and smirked. Then, she leaned forward and looked across Jane at the girl. "Lela, do you need me to come with you?"

Lela smiled. "It's alright, Miss Lisbon. I'm not that scared."

"Teresa. Call me Teresa."

"Can I call you Teresa?" Jane asked.

She threw him a sharp glare. "Shut up."

"I'm not kidding."

"Lela Benson?" A nurse emerged from the hallway with a clipboard.

Lela rose nervously, and Lisbon did, too. "Wait here," she ordered Jane.

The two walked over to the nurse, and while Lela started into the hallway, Jane could see Lisbon whisper something to the nurse, who smiled and nodded understandingly before turning and following Lela down the hall. When Lisbon returned, Jane looked at her curiously.

"I was making sure she doesn't tell Lela about what's going on," she explained.

He nodded once. "Ah, I see." He bit his lip.

Her face turned strikingly serious. "Jane… do you need me to come with you into the room?"

He gaped at her. "Lisbon. I'm almost forty years old. I don't need someone in there to hold my hand."

She just looked at him with an unconvinced expression.

He sighed. "Yes, please," he muttered in defeat.

Lisbon smiled. "Patrick Jane has a weakness."

"I have many weaknesses," he growled.

She laughed. "Not many that you let show."

"I wasn't intending on letting this one show, and if you tell anyone, I'll… I'll…" He struggled for words.

"You should leave the threats up to me. And I swear, I won't tell."

"Thank you."

XXXX

He almost passed out when he saw the needle.

His heart skipped a beat, his blood went cold, and he turned ghost white. Lisbon, noticing the simple obvious, reached over and took his hand in her firm grasp. He'd always had a phobia of doctors and hospitals, ever since he was a kid. But somehow, having his boss here with him made him feel a tiny bit better.

Tiny. He said tiny.

When the nurse brought the needle close, he looked down at Lisbon, just so he didn't have to look at the sharp object they were stabbing into the arm with the sleeve rolled up. He knew he was being a baby, but he really didn't give a damn. He didn't care if Lisbon knew that he was scared of this kind of stuff, not now anyway, and he knew she wouldn't say anything to anyone on the team, or anyone else. He trusted her.

When the needle was inside of his arm, he squeezed Lisbon's hand so hard he was afraid he might have broken it, but it was Lisbon and she doesn't get broken bones. He bit the insides of his cheeks and tried to return the comforting smile that Lisbon had on her face, and failed miserably. He had a grimace on his face, but Lisbon just made soothing circles with her thumb on his hand and squeezed it impossibly tighter.

And then it was over, and he was relieved.

The nurse left the room, shutting the door behind her, and he plopped down backwards on the bed and sighed.

"Hey, your normal color is back," Lisbon teased as she stood up.

"That was stressful as hell."

"Why are you afraid of this kind of stuff?" she asked him, releasing his hand. A smile played at her lips. "Patrick Jane, the man with psychic abilities that is willing to take on a serial killer, and is hell-bent on cutting him to pieces when he gets his hands on him, is afraid of needles."

He glared at her.

"I'm sorry." She tried and failed to wipe the smile off her face. "It's just so ironic."

"You want to hear something ironic?" He batted his eyelashes at her. "Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, workaholic, one hell of a cop, completely against unprofessional behavior and/or actions, is ditching work, sitting in a clinic with her trouble-causing consultant, holding his hand while he gets blood drawn." He smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "So you admit that you're trouble-causing. Bravo," she praised him sarcastically. "You're welcome, by the way," she added dryly.

"I said thank you before."

"Let's go. Lela's probably done, too."

Jane sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down, following Lisbon out the door and into the waiting room. Sure enough, Lela was sitting where she had been before, reading a magazine. When they approached her, she looked up, then set the magazine down. "Ready?" she asked.

Lisbon nodded. "Yep."

The three of them walked out of the clinic together. Jane caught sight of the Snoopy band-aid that was peeking out of the sleeve of Lela's T-shirt. He smiled, remembering that he had a Charlie Brown band-aid on his own arm.

What a grown-up he was.

On the way to Lela's house, Jane's phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "Oh, hi, Grace."

"Where are you?" Grace asked.

"Uh, we're on our way," Jane told her.

"Where have you guys been?"

"We took Lela Benson to the clinic."

There was a pause on the other end. "Ashlyn McGregor's sister?"

"Foster sister."

"Why?"

"Grace, I'll see you when we get back." He hung up.

"I still don't understand something," Lela said from the backseat as she gazed out the window.

Lisbon glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "What's that?"

Lela looked to the front of the car. "Why would they take blood from me during a check-up?"

Jane and Lisbon looked at each other.

"And don't lie to me," the girl added nonchalantly.

"That's what they normally do during check-ups," Lisbon said quickly.

"No, they don't."

"Uh-huh, and when did you say the last time you had a check-up was?" Jane quipped.

She just smirked and looked out the window again.

Lisbon pulled the SUV into the McGregors' driveway and put it into park, giving Jane a scolding look before turning and looking at Lela. "Are either of your parents home?"

"No. Why?"

"Just wondering. But it would probably be wise that you didn't tell them about this. They'd probably have us off the case."

"The Red John case?"

Lisbon nodded.

Lela pursed her lips. "I won't let that happen." She got out of the car and started toward the front door, throwing a little thank-you wave in their direction before going inside.

XXXX

"You took her in for a check-up without telling Mr. and Mrs. McGregor?" Grace asked Jane incredulously.

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Why not? It's not like those asshole parents will ever get her checked."

"Did she look ill the last time you saw her?"

Jane shook his head.

"I don't get it," Grace admitted.

"Just let it go, Grace," Jane snapped. "You'll find out soon enough."

She smirked, but let the subject drop. Instead, she turned back to her laptop and started clicking at the keys again.

"I don't understand either," Rigsby, from his desk, put in. "Why would you do that? You don't even know her. With her background, she could be trouble, Jane."

"What do you mean with her background?"

Grace looked up and brushed the hair out of her face. "She's thirteen years old. She has been bouncing around foster homes since she was five. Nobody can really confirm what happened to her parents. It seems like someone just… found her one day and put her in the system. A ton of those foster homes have hostile, maybe even abusive, parents." She crossed her arms. "Now, can you look me in the eye and tell me that you don't believe there's a slight chance that she may be trouble?"

Jane leaned forward, stared into her brown eyes, and said, "I don't believe she's trouble." He stood up straight again and glanced at Rigsby, catching him briefly glaring at the engagement ring on Grace's finger. "She's a good kid, guys," Jane said. "Even though Lisbon and I barely know her, we can both agree that she is."

"He's right," Lisbon, who was walking into the bullpen, chimed in. "Sure, she's a bit of a smart-aleck, but I don't think she's a bad kid."

Van Pelt and Rigsby exchanged a glance, but just shrugged and went back to what they were doing.

"Jane, can I talk to you in my office?" Lisbon requested before turning and walking in the direction she came.

Rigsby grinned stupidly. "You're busted."

Grace giggled.

"Why? What did I do?" Jane stood up.

"Who knows?" Rigsby chuckled.

Patrick resisted the urge to roll his eyes like a teenager and stalked into Lisbon's office. "Yes?"

"Close the door."

He did as she asked. For once.

From behind her desk, Lisbon turned her laptop so it was facing him.

"What am I looking at?" he asked.

"I've been doing some research on Lela Benson," she said. "I got a hold of her medical records-"

"You what?"

"-and it says here that in the last year alone, she's had four trips to the emergency room because of severe beatings."

Jane's fist clenched.

"And that's just in the past year," Lisbon added quietly.

"What else did you find?" he asked, taking a seat.

She turned the laptop back to face her. "I couldn't find a birth certificate for her."

"I doubt you could find that online."

"Usually, through our system, we can at least see if a person has a birth certificate."

"Who doesn't have a birth certificate?"

She glared at him. "Someone with a name that isn't theirs. Now are you going to listen or not?"

"Yes, Miss Lisbon."

She sighed. "I also made some phone calls and did more research. No one knows who her birth parents are. A woman by the name of Tracey Monroe woke up and found a five-year-old girl unconscious on her doorstep. Monroe took her to the hospital, and that's where they identified Lela."

His heart sunk. "So she can't be my daughter." Disappointment highlighted his veins.

"Wait a minute," Lisbon said impatiently. "But just twenty-four hours before, the hospital workers were suspicious that their computer system may have been breached."

There was a pause. "Where did Tracey Monroe live at the time?"

Lisbon glanced back at her computer. "Salt Lake City. She still lives there." She gave him a hopeful glance. "We should go!"

"No way."

"Why not?"

Jane looked her up and down. "What the hell is up with you and your interest in this girl? Why are you so intrigued?"

"Because I want to help you find your daughter," Lisbon replied, hurt slightly touching her emerald eyes.

And he knew she was telling the truth.

Jane offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Lisbon."

She flinched. "Holy crap."

"What?" he said self-consciously.

"Patrick Jane just apologized."

He rolled his eyes. "And now he's going to take it back."

"Nope! No take-backs at the CBI." A teasing smile crept across her lips.

"Meh, I'm just a consultant. Not an agent." He yawned, turning and noticing that most of the agents had gone home for the night. Then, he walked into the bullpen, plopped down onto his couch, and closed his eyes, drifting into an uneasy slumber…

**Tbc. Okay, so I really don't know much about what goes on during a paternity test, so please don't make fun of me if you know what really goes on. :] Anyways, I'll be updating soon if I can get over my writer's block! In the meantime, review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Thanks for the awesome reviews. You guys rock! Just to clarify something, I think I misspelled the girl's name. I originally wanted her name to be pronounced "Layla", but I don't know if the way I spelled it is right. Oh well. Just so you know :]**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"_Jane," Lisbon said as she walked into the bullpen. Her expression showed nervousness and anxiety. "We have a case." She hesitated. "It's Red John."_

_His insides froze. Everyone in the bullpen stared at him. He simply stood up from the comfort of his couch and followed Lisbon and the team out of the CBI building._

_He was silent the entire ride to the crime scene. He stared out the window, then scrunched his eyebrows together when Lisbon pulled up to a house that was all too familiar to him. When he realized where they were, his breath hitched in his throat. Lisbon put the car into park and turned to him. "I didn't want to tell you back at the office," she confessed quietly._

_Jane stared at her. "Oh no," he whispered._

_They both bolted from the car and sprinted into the house. They passed men with _forensics _and _coroner _on their jackets, but neither Jane nor Lisbon acknowledged them. They simply sprinted up the stairs, down the hallway, to the last bedroom on the left._

_Red John's signature smiley face was the first thing they saw._

_The next thing they saw was Lela Benson, sprawled out on her bed, painted crimson in her own blood._

_Dead._

_Murdered._

_Mr. and Mrs. McGregor were standing in the corner of the room, crying silently. Jane assumed they were simply crying out of shock, not sadness. It isn't like they actually cared about her anyway. Hell, Jane and Lisbon cared about that girl more than the foster parents did!_

"_You have _got _to be kidding me," Jane mumbled in utter disbelief and disgust, and pure shock._

"_Jane?" Rigsby croaked hoarsely from the other side of the room. Patrick tore his gaze away from the girl to look at his colleague, who was reading a piece of paper that was held between his gloves._

_Jane crossed the room and took the paper from Rigsby, gaping at the page._

_**You should have known better, Mr. Jane.**_

He gasped and shot straight up, literally flying off the couch and hitting the ground with a hard _thud_. The CBI office was pitch black. The only source of light around was coming from Lisbon's office, and the full moon that was streaming in the window. Jane sat on the floor, breathing hard. He pulled his knees close to his chest and set his hands on top of his legs. He felt something drip onto his hand.

And that's when he realized he was crying.

"Jane?" he heard her worried voice. Through his teary eyes, he looked over and saw her in her office, standing up from behind her desk and peering into the dark bullpen, squinting to see better.

"I'm okay," he called out. His voice cracked, giving him away. _Dammit, _he thought.

Her expression grew more worried, and she hurried out of her office. He heard her footsteps rush into the bullpen and she flicked on the lights. The room lit up, and his tear-streaked face was clear as day.

"Jane?" she whispered. She walked over and took a seat next to him on the floor. "What's the matter?"

"N-nothing," he replied, but he had started to cry all over again.

She slid an arm around his shaking shoulders and pulled him close. "Shh… it's okay."

He turned his head and buried his humiliated face into her shoulder. For a split second, he let his mind wander, and pictured her face if anyone were to catch them like this. But assuming it was quite late, there was no chance of that.

He felt his tears soak through her shirt. He apologized over and over in a broken voice, but she just shushed him, wrapping her other arm around him and rocking him back and forth. She kept telling him that it would all be okay. Her soothing words and actions were actually starting to calm him. He wasn't sobbing now, just silently crying into her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly in his ear.

He didn't answer. He just relaxed in her arms.

She spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He just shrugged.

"Was it a bad dream?"

He nodded.

He couldn't see her, but he felt a hand go to the back of his head and she played lightly with his curls.

He didn't know how long they stayed there, like that. His eyes were starting to drift shut, and the last thing that entered his mind right before he slipped into unconsciousness was that if he were to stay awake just a minute longer, he would have lifted his head up, thanked her repeatedly, and he would have kissed her.

XXXX

Jane fell asleep in her arms with absolutely no knowledge of the fact that she had started crying, too.

While she held him and listened to him sniff and cry, the tears had started to well up in her own eyes. They spilled onto her cheeks, and she prayed silently that Jane didn't know. It probably wouldn't be very comforting to _him _if she cried, too.

But he didn't seem to notice, and she actually smiled contently when his breathing shifted and he was asleep.

She had no idea what time it was. When she heard Jane gasp and fall off the couch, it had been somewhere around midnight. She had stayed late to work on the latest case.

But she stayed in the position she was in for quite some time, just holding her consultant and whispering comforting words in his ear even if he couldn't hear them.

She almost flinched. There were so many factors in that sentence that could get her fired it was almost a bit ridiculous.

So after she was sure he was in a deep sleep, she reluctantly - _reluctantly? What the hell is the matter with you, Teresa? _- slid out of the position she was in, being extremely careful not to wake him up, and straightened. She looked down at his peaceful, sleeping form. Yes, he did look very peaceful, despite the events that had led up to it. His blond curls framed his perfect face - _Whoa, there. What's with the bold choice of adjectives? _- and even though he had just finished sobbing, he looked quite… serene. More relaxed than she's seen him in a while.

But she couldn't leave him in the position he was in, just sitting on the floor with his neck craned backward. No matter how undisturbed he looked, that couldn't be the most comfortable position.

So she swallowed her pride and leaned down. She snaked an arm around his back and the other under his knees, braced herself, and lifted him up off the ground, surprising herself with her strength. He was heavy, but she didn't have too much trouble easing him onto the couch. _There, _she thought, satisfied. He looked way more comfortable. She smiled to herself, and crouched down to retrieve the blanket that was underneath the couch. She spread it over his delicate sleeping form, glanced around as if she was afraid someone would see, and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. "I won't be far, Jane," she promised him in a whisper. Then, she returned to her office after turning the bullpen lights off and set an alarm on her phone for five o'clock. She noted the time: one in the morning. With a sigh, she flicked her desk lamp off, settled herself onto her own couch, and fell asleep easily.

XXXX

_Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep…_

His eyes opened at the sound of the soft alarm coming from Lisbon's office. Outside, it was still dark. He heard a quiet groan and then the alarm turned off.

She was still here? But why -

His stomach lurched as he remembered the events from the night before. Or early that morning. Whatever time it had been.

Waking up from that nightmare. Sobbing into his boss' shoulder. Lisbon rocking him to sleep. Imagining kissing her if he were to stay awake…

And somehow he ended up on the couch with a blanket.

She had _lifted _him onto the couch. And she had stayed overnight at the office. For him.

He closed his eyes again and groaned inwardly, the embarrassment starting to kick in.

He listened to her moving around in her office. He heard her footsteps growing closer and closer until finally stopping at what seemed to be the doorway of the bullpen. It was silent. He pretended to be sleeping, making the rise and fall of his chest apparent, almost over-exaggerated.

He heard her footsteps again, this time getting further away. When they were out of earshot, he cautiously opened his eyes. She was nowhere to be seen, and he guessed she went off to the locker room to shower.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. 5 o'clock in the morning. An hour until the other agents were due to show up.

He threw the blanket off of him and sat up, rubbing his eyes and sighing. He reached up and tried to smooth out the mess that must be his hair, and got up off the couch. He walked to the kitchenette, where he proceeded to make himself a cup of tea, and after he did so, he started a pot of coffee for Lisbon. He sat down at the table and sipped at his tea, wondering how exactly to approach Lisbon with a thank you. She'd done a lot for him in the past week. He was so grateful for her.

The coffee pot beeped, indicating that the coffee was ready. Jane just sat there, holding his cup of tea, pondering a way to repay Lisbon for everything she's done for him lately. Another pony? He smiled at the thought. _Whatever happened to that pony anyways? _he thought to himself. He just shrugged and went back to brainstorming.

"Morning," he heard behind him, making him jump and nearly spill his tea. He turned around. Lisbon was standing in the break room entry with wet hair and different clothes on than the day before. She smiled sheepishly. "Oh, sorry."

"It's alright." He smiled at her.

She spotted the pot of coffee and grinned. "Thank God. Just what I need. Thanks." She got herself a mug and poured the hot liquid into it, taking the first sip of the day and sighing happily. She sat down across the table from him.

"Don't thank _me_," Jane said.

The cup stopped at her lips and she set it down, shifting in her seat. She knew what he meant.

Jane set his own saucer down and reached across the table to take her hand. "I, uh…" He paused, not sure what exactly he could say. "I just… can't thank you enough."

_What the hell? Are you kidding me? _he shot at himself.

The left side of her mouth curved up slightly. "You don't have to thank me," she whispered, interlacing their fingers. "I'm here for you. Always. You know that." There was a short silence. "Do you want to talk about the dream?" she asked quietly.

His smile instantly disappeared. "Um… not now."

She nodded. "I understand."

The support and compassion in her green eyes made him want to open up to her. He didn't want to keep anything from her anymore. "No. Wait. I changed my mind."

She raised an eyebrow.

He took a deep breath. "In my nightmare, Red John killed her."

"Who?"

"The Benson girl."

She sucked in a tiny breath. "Oh…"

"Yeah. And he did it because… because we took the paternity test." He sighed. "I think I might have overreacted a bit. It was just a dream." He shrugged awkwardly. "I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable."

"I wasn't," she said quickly.

Her hair was still damp, but it was starting to form those curls that framed her face. Her kind emerald eyes were gorgeous. Her pink lips held a tiny smile. _Lips, _was his only thought.

"I almost kissed you," he blurted without thinking, instantly clamping his mouth shut and chuckling, embarrassed. "Um, that wasn't actually supposed to come out."

Lisbon turned beet red, but she couldn't help smiling herself. "Yeah? Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Kiss me."

Huh. Odd response. "I fell asleep."

She stared at him, then threw her head back and laughed.

He scrunched his eyebrows together, confused. "What's so funny?"

She let go of Jane's hand to clutch her stomach, leaning over in hysterics. Her eyes were closed, but tears were somehow finding a way out of her squeezed-shut eyelids. "I'm… I'm… sorry!" she managed between laughs. She used the other hand to grab the table to keep her from falling out of her chair. Seeing her in this state, Jane couldn't help laughing, too.

"I still don't get it," Jane chuckled.

She finally managed to get herself upright, and she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Neither do I!" She laughed again. "That's just… such a typical Jane response." She let out another laugh. "Last night was just so… packed with interesting events."

"You got that right." Then, something dawned on him. "Hey, did you _lift _me off the ground and onto the couch? Or did I wake up and move myself?"

She blushed again. "Um, I lifted you."

He bit his lip. "Oh."

"Don't look so ashamed."

He looked down at his hands in his lap. "Look, Lisbon," he said. "Last night wasn't exactly something I was particularly proud of -"

"I would never say anything to anyone."

He looked up again. "Thank you. I… can't thank you enough." At that moment, he thought about finishing what he started last night. Or what he would have started. He thought about leaning across the table and pressing his lips to hers. He thought about what it might feel like to kiss the great Teresa Lisbon. He thought about it and wondered why the hell he wanted to kiss her so damn bad.

But for whatever reason he would never, _ever _understand, he didn't.

XXXX

A week passed after that night.

Ever since Lisbon had comforted Jane in his moment of extreme weakness - a weakness even greater than his fear of doctors - the two became oddly defensive of each other. It was like Jane's nightmare brought them together. Just simple little things made it so, like the way Jane's hand would glide lightly along the small of her back while they were walking into a crime scene. Or the way Lisbon would step in front of him protectively when a suspect got angry with Jane.

There was no denying it. Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon were _best friends._

On a boring Thursday around six in the evening, when everyone was wrapping up what they were doing, as he lay on his couch in the bullpen, he heard Lisbon call his name.

Sighing, he got up and walked into her office, leaning against the doorframe. Lisbon held her phone away from her, towards him, as if it were burning her. "Oh my God. Take it. Take it!"

"Who is it?" he asked, noting her panicked expression.

"The doctor. Take it!" she ordered for the third time, now starting to look a bit dangerous.

He gasped, and ripped the phone from her hand. "H-hello?" he stuttered.

"Mr. Jane, hello. This is Dr. Marcus Corey."

"Hi…"

"The paternity test results are in."

His heart stopped. He met Lisbon's hopeful, anxious eyes. _This is it, _he thought to himself. _If they come back positive, I'll have my little girl again._

"Okay," he breathed.

"You know, Mr. Jane, I don't have children, but losing a child must be an awful thing to live through."

Jane's throat caught.

"And now, with hopes that you may have found your child again-"

Irritated, he cut Dr. Corey off. "Will you just give me the test results, please?"

Lisbon shot him a scolding look.

He heard a soft chuckle on the other end. "The test states that…" Jane could hear papers shuffling on the other end of the phone, and he wondered briefly if the doctor was purposely building up suspense just to be cruel. Lisbon was still watching him. "…the test states that you are, in fact, the father of this child."

A huge grin spread across his face, and he met Lisbon's eyes again. He nodded happily, and she let out a shriek, leaping - _leaping! _- across her desk and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh, thank you. _Thank you, _Dr. Corey," Jane gushed before snapping Lisbon's phone shut and setting it on her desk. He picked Lisbon up and spun her in a circle, his face nearly breaking from the gigantic smile that was planted on his face.

When he set her down, Lisbon pulled back. "Jane!" she shouted. "Oh my goodness. Oh my _goodness!_"

His grin got impossibly wider. "Wow," was all he could say.

Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt all hurried into Lisbon's office, all three of them asking hurried questions.

"What is it?"

"What happened?"

"Did LaRoche get fired?"

That last one came from Rigsby, and everyone else turned to stare at him. Rigsby swallowed hard and crossed his arms across his chest. "What? I don't see any of you guys throwing in helpful guesses, and it seems like a good reason to get excited."

Cho rolled his eyes.

"What is it, boss?" Van Pelt asked excitedly.

Lisbon looked at Jane eagerly.

"Finally!" Rigsby punched the air and grinned.

Grace shrieked. "You guys _finally _are getting together?"

"It's about time," Cho added.

"What?" Lisbon screeched. "No!"

Three disappointed looks caused Lisbon's glare to grow even colder.

Jane laughed. "Oh, cut them some slack, Lisbon." Then, he added, "They actually have a pool going. Not that _that_ supports my first argument. I just thought you should know."

Lisbon whirled to face her consultant. "Are you kidding me?"

Jane smiled.

She turned to glower at her blushing team, who were exchanging nervous glances.

"Anyway…" Cho said to break the awkward silence. "Tell us what all the excitement's about."

"We found my daughter," Jane announced proudly.

Grace gasped.

Rigsby's jaw dropped.

Cho's black eyes widened.

Suddenly, things clicked. "Lela Benson?" Grace whispered.

Jane and Lisbon nodded.

"_That's _what you were doing at the clinic!" Rigsby smacked himself on the forehead.

"Jane!" Van Pelt said excitedly, a grin spreading across her delicate face. "You found your girl! You have your daughter again!" She crossed the room and hugged him.

Rigsby patted him on the back. "Congrats, dude."

Cho set a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, man. Congratulations."

When Grace released him, he smiled at all of them. "Thanks guys." His eyes wandered to Lisbon's. "Especially you."

She smiled. "No biggie."

As the team made their way into the break room for celebratory wine, Jane stuck around for a while. Most of the other agents had gone home for the night, and as the team started on their second _cup _of wine, he slipped away, and escaped to the roof.

Outside, the fresh air felt nice. He felt free. Today was probably the best day he'd had in eight years. He _knew _it was. He's found Charlotte. He found his little girl. She wasn't dead. Red John didn't cut her open. She was alive. She was _found._

Suddenly, it was strange putting Charlotte's name to a face. Sure, he always, always, _always _thought about the beautiful, perfect little face that he remembered. But that was different. She was only five. Now, after years of wondering how or if she's changed, he knows exactly what she looks like. Lela Benson is his daughter. Lela Benson is Charlotte Jane.

Jane leaned against the wall of the roof, peering down at the street below. Agents were walking to their cars together, exchanging goodbyes, driving off.

"Hey," Jane heard behind him.

He turned, and there was Lisbon. She was smiling at him, looking _almost _as happy as he felt. She joined him at the wall, leaning over to rest her arms on the top of it. He smiled back and looked back at the street again.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asked.

He looked at her. "Not particularly. I just needed fresh air."

She smiled.

"Told you there was hope," she gloated, and laughed softly.

His gaze wandered and fell upon her face. "I never could have done it without you, Teresa," he said in complete seriousness.

Her lips twitched. "Didn't I tell you that you couldn't call me Teresa?"

He wasn't amused. "I'm serious. I really couldn't have done it without you."

Strikingly-beautiful green eyes met his sea-blue gaze and the corners of her lips curved upward. "You underestimate yourself."

"So do you."

She rolled her eyes and looked down again. "I know what I am."

"I know what you are, too. But I seriously doubt you do."

She glanced at him under her long eyelashes. "Ah, so _now _you're psychic."

"Psychics don't exist."

"Yeah, you're right. Not a psychic, you're a… a…" She trailed off, at loss for words.

"A… what?" he challenged.

She perked up and snapped her fingers. "A mentalist!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's what I am."

She laughed, too. A sound filled with joy and enlightenment. He loved that sound. It was his favorite sound in the world, he decided.

It motivated him.

Slowly, he leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek, but she turned her head so her lips were directly in line with his. With a small smile, he continued to lean in.

But as his lips were just centimeters from hers, the door to the roof burst open. "Boss, I-" Grace stopped dead in her tracks, gaping.

Jane and Lisbon flew apart. Lisbon stood up straight, trying to look efficient and professional. Jane, on the other hand, was trying to bite back a smile, his amusement inspired by Van Pelt's expression.

"I, um… I'm sorry. I was…" The poor girl gave up on her stutters, turned, and hurried back down the stairs.

"Ah, shit," Lisbon muttered, rushing after Van Pelt, leaving Jane both enchanted and disappointed that he let three opportunities of kissing Lisbon slip through his fingers.

_**TBC**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, guys, do me a favor. When you read "Lela", pronounce it "Layla". That's originally what I wanted. I just didn't know how to spell it.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"Isn't it weird to think that Jane has a kid?" Rigsby asked casually as he tossed a ball up in the air and caught it.

"What do you mean?" Cho replied without glancing up from his book.

"I just… I don't know. It's kind of hard for me to picture any of us with kids right now. But _Jane _especially, you know?" He looked at Cho.

Cho shrugged. "I know what you mean, but I don't agree. We've all known that he had a kid somewhere out there, even if she wasn't alive. He raised her for the first five years of her life. I'm pretty sure that classifies him as a father, no matter how long he had her."

Rigsby pondered this, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess you're right. He's just such a… pain in the ass! It's hard to picture some little girl calling him 'Dad'."

"She's not just some little girl. She's _his _little girl."

Grace burst into the bullpen, out of breath.

"What is it, Grace?" Rigsby asked, standing up in a hurry.

"She, uh, she…" Van Pelt stopped. "Wait, what was I supposed to ask her again?"

Cho finally looked up. "You were supposed to ask about the current suspects of the case. Van Pelt, are you alright?"

"Fine, just fine. Totally fine. I'm great, really." She grinned widely.

Cho and Rigsby looked at each other, knowing that her smile was fake. They both looked back at her, and crossed their arms in unison.

"Alright, Grace. What's going on?" Rigsby said.

"What? Why would you think something was going on? Nothing's going on!"

They both stared at her.

"Subtle," Cho deadpanned.

Without her knowledge, Lisbon came up behind Grace. "Van Pelt!"

Grace jumped and whipped around. "Boss! Hi!" She turned to Rigsby and Cho. "Hey, guys, it's the boss! She's here. You can ask her yourself! Well, I'm gonna take off for the night. See you tomorrow!" She attempted to wedge past Lisbon, but the boss caught her arm.

"Grace," she whispered. "See me in my office. Now." She released the red head and walked in the direction of her office.

Jane joined them, too. "What's going on?" he asked Grace with a smug smile on his face.

"Nothing! Why does everyone _think _that?" She turned and stomped to Lisbon's office.

Jane smiled at Cho and Rigsby before turning and following Grace.

"Uh, yeah. Something's definitely up," Rigsby put in.

Cho glowered at him. "You think?"

XXXX

"I'm so sorry!" Grace gushed once she, Lisbon, and Jane were all together in Lisbon's office, behind the closed door. "I'm so, so, _so _sorry, boss. And Jane!" she added quickly. "If I had known-"

"Grace, would you calm down?" Jane exclaimed.

"Seriously!" Lisbon cried. "Calm yourself! We aren't mad! We just want to… explain."

Van Pelt relaxed slightly.

"That wasn't what it looked like," Lisbon said in a hurry. "Not at all! Jane and I are nothing but colleagues. Friends, if you will. But nothing more!"

Jane managed to keep the smug smile on his face, but he felt his heart immediately start to sink.

"What you saw was just a mistake," Lisbon went on. "And I don't want it to affect you or me or Jane or anyone. It was all just a big misunderstanding. Just forget it ever happened." She glanced at Jane reluctantly. "We all will." She looked back to Van Pelt. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, boss," Grace nodded before rising from her seat, somewhat dazed. "I'm going to take off for the night, if that would be alright."

"Yes, of course." Lisbon smiled at her, watching her go.

But Jane stared at Lisbon.

And when Van Pelt was gone, Lisbon stared at Jane.

There was a silence. A painful, deafening, heartbreaking silence. Neither of them knew what to say. Neither of them had any idea what the other was thinking. But they both knew that what Lisbon said was true. That almost-kiss would have been a mistake if it had happened, and they couldn't let it happen again.

XXXX

"So, Jane," Van Pelt said the next day. "When are you going to tell her?"

"Tell who?"

"Tell Lela! And how exactly are you going to tell her?"

Jane sighed. Oh, Grace and her need for details. "Grace, I haven't even thought of what I'd say."

Her face fell. "Well, will I be able to meet her?"

He had to smile at her eagerness. "Haven't you already met her?"

"Briefly. But not as your daughter. As Lela Benson."

"Grace, _I _haven't even met her as my daughter."

She scrunched her brows together, then laughed at herself. "Oh, yeah. You're right."

He smiled enviously at her bubbly personality. "I'm always right." He meant to make it sound like he was joking, but he honestly wasn't.

"But when are you going to tell her?" Grace kept her questions coming.

He shrugged.

"_Are_ you going to tell her?"

He huffed. "For God's sake, Grace. Why so many questions?"

"Why not?" she reacted defensively.

"I don't know. Okay?"

"Okay, Jane! Gee, sorry!"

Her sensitive expression made him feel guilty. He really didn't like hurting the team, but Van Pelt especially. "No. I'm sorry." He paused. "I just… I don't know. With everything happening lately-"

She cut him off. "You mean like the almost-kiss with our boss?"

He quickly looked around to see if anyone heard that. Nobody was near. "I thought we agreed to forget it happened!" he hissed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh-"

"Are you in love with her?"

"With _Lisbon_?"

She nodded innocently.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Definitely not."

"Whyyy?"

He looked at her. "Was that a whine?"

She blushed. "No."

"I think it was."

"It wasn't, Jane!"

"Was."

"Wasn't!"

He laughed. "So was."

"Jane?" came Lisbon's voice from the bullpen entry.

He turned his head and looked her in the eye for the first time today.

"Jane, come to my office." She turned on her heel and walked back in the direction she came.

He met Grace's eyes. Silently, they said, _That almost-kiss was so not a mistake._

He rolled his eyes and followed Lisbon into her office. "Look, Lisbon, about last night-"

"Shut the door."

He did what she said. "Anyway, about last night-"

"I don't want to talk about last night with you, Jane." Her voice was sharp, almost as if it were in pain.

He drew back. "Why?"

"_Why? _Maybe because you've been avoiding me like the plague all damn day."

He didn't say anything. He just looked down.

She sighed. "Look, Jane. What happened last night… well, let's just forget it. Okay?"

"What if I don't want to?" he asked quietly.

"Well, what if I do?" she snapped.

He looked up again. "I'm sorry, Lisbon. I'm _sorry. _I don't want to screw up what we have." He shifted uncomfortably. "I mean… just last week, you came with me and held my hand at the clinic because I'm afraid of the doctors! You helped me get through everything with Lela Benson. You even rocked me to sleep while I sobbed into your shoulder." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I just… really can't lose you."

Her bewildered expression transformed into a soft, comforting, almost-smile. She took a step towards him. "You won't lose me, Jane. I promise."

That promise lifted the heavy weights on his shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully.

"No problem." She smiled. "But there is actually a reason I called you in here."

"Oh. Right."

"What are you going to do about Lela?"

He exhaled sharply. Had he not _just _had this conversation? "I have no idea."

There was a short silence. Then, Lisbon added randomly, "So, when she's not with us, am I supposed to call her Lela, or Charlotte?" She bit her lip. "That technically isn't relevant, but I'm just wondering."

"I don't know that, either." He sighed. "What should I do?" he asked. "Should I tell her?"

"Jane, I've known this girl for about… ah, two weeks now. I only know about two percent of her story, and it tells me that the girl has been through pure hell in her life." She shrugged. "I think she deserves to know who her father is. She's probably curious."

"What if she isn't? What if she thinks I just… abandoned her or something? Obviously, she doesn't remember Red John taking her away. If she can't remember that, then she probably doesn't remember who I am, or what happened to her mother!"

"Jane, you're getting panicky. Calm down."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm a little stressed."

"I'm aware."

He plopped down in a chair, letting his head fall into his hands. "Ugh!" he groaned.

He heard her light footsteps walk over to the chair next to him and take a seat. His heart slammed into his chest when he felt her hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly. "Don't worry. She'll love you."

He didn't respond.

"You two are _so _much alike. Same blue eyes. Same curly blonde hair. Same million-dollar smile." He felt her hand tense on his shoulder and he smiled into his hands. She obviously hadn't meant for that particular adjective to come out. "I don't know if you can tell," she went on. "But just listening to her talk, she's even got the same smartass personality." There was a pinch of sarcasm to her voice, but he knew that she really wasn't joking at all.

He let out a laugh.

"I'm serious. It's obvious that she was born a Jane."

He lifted his head up from his hands and looked at her.

Her eyes were comforting and supportive. "She's your daughter, Jane," she pointed out. "Don't be nervous."

He smiled at her. He liked the way she could be the tough-as-nails boss at one moment and your best friend the next. He liked the way her soothing words had such an effect on him.

"Thank you, Lisbon."

**I'm sorry. That chapter **_**sucked. **_**I had some SERIOUS issues writing it. I don't know why it was so difficult, but for some reason, I couldn't get over my stupid writer's block! Oh well. It will get better. The part where Lela finds out will be coming up soon, so stay tuned! :)**

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I recently started a new fic. Why? Because I am an idiot and am trying to jam just one more thing into my schedule, I suppose. It's an angsty story about lost love and new heartbreak. Jisbon-related. If I can finish it, I might publish it soon. Possibly.**

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.**

"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the receiver answered.

"Miss Benson?" Lisbon whispered, glancing around to make sure no one could hear her.

"Yes. Who is this?" the girl asked cautiously.

"This is Teresa Lisbon from the CBI." Her voice was still in a whisper. "Are your parents home?"

"You mean Bitch and Bastard McGregor?" Lela growled, obviously irritated with something. "No. They aren't."

She had to smile at the thirteen-year-old's unfiltered vocabulary. "What's wrong, Lela?"

"Nothing. And why are you whispering?"

_Because I don't want Jane to know I'm doing this. _"Mister Jane is asleep on my couch," she lied. "I don't want to wake him. When are the McGregors going to be home?"

"They went to work this morning, and they probably won't be back until sometime after seven tonight."

Something suddenly occurred to her. "Why aren't you in school?" She glanced at the clock. Ten o'clock on a Tuesday morning.

Lela sighed. "Summer vacation, Miss Lisbon."

Teresa blushed at her obliviousness when it came to kids. "Oh," she said. "Uh, anyway. Listen. Are you busy?"

"Because I'd be home right now if I were busy?" she snapped.

Lisbon scrunched her brows together at the girl's odd behavior. "What is the matter with you, Lela?"

There was a sigh on the other end. "I'm sorry, Miss Lisbon. Today has not been a good day."

"How so?"

Lela quickly backtracked. "No reason."

"You're lying."

"No I am not."

Lisbon huffed. "Alright. Whatever. So are you busy or not?"

"No, I'm not busy." She paused. "Why?"

"Because I'm coming to get you."

"_Why?"_

"We need to talk to you."

There was a pause on the other end. "About what?" Lela said slowly.

"About… your sister," she lied.

"I don't have a sister."

"About Ashlyn, I meant."

"I don't want to talk about Ashlyn."

"Why not?" Though she already knew the answer.

"Because she's _dead, _andMiss Lisbon-"

"Teresa."

There was a sigh. "She's dead, Teresa. And she didn't like me. And I can't stand the thought of her dying and hating me at the same time."

"You didn't kill her."

"I wanted to, sometimes."

"Don't say that."

"Freedom of speech. Look it up."

It was _amazing _how similar she was to her biological father.

"Lela, I'm coming to get you. Okay? No arguments. I'm a cop, I do what I want. And you do what I tell you. That's how it works. See you in a few minutes." She hung up without giving her a chance to protest.

"Who was that?"

She jumped and whipped around, coming face-to-face with Jane, who was leaning against the doorframe in the open doorway.

"No one," she said quickly. "Were you eavesdropping?"

He shook his head sincerely. "Now, why would you think I'd do that?"

"Answer the damn question, Jane."

"No, I was not eavesdropping, woman! But now I'm feeling like I should have been. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." She grabbed her car keys. "I have to run home for a second."

"Why?"

"Forgot something."

"What did you forget?"

"None of your business."

He smiled slyly. "Poor Lisbon, trying to lie to Patrick Jane the Great. It won't work, darling. You can tell me-"

"I forgot my cell phone, Jane, and my brother might be trying to get a hold of me!" She crossed her arms. "Tommy and his wife aren't doing so well. Okay?" This, at least, was the truth, but the part about forgetting her phone was a lie. It was tucked in her inside coat pocket.

Jane looked at her skeptically but she just brushed past him and walked to the elevators.

* * *

"Remind me again why I'm coming with you?" Lela grumbled in the passenger seat of the car.

"Remind _me _again what the attitude is all about?" Lisbon retorted.

The girl sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry." She crossed her arms. "The McGregors piss me off."

"How so?"

She rolled her eyes. "How _not?_ They insult me, ignore me, scoff at me. Darcy told me this morning that they were only in this for the money, and they'll be ecstatic when I'm finally gone." She huffed, leaning back against the seat. "Ashlyn was half-decent, even though she didn't like me. Sometimes, when she was in a really, really good mood, she'd actually… smile at me. She would even sometimes offer to take me to the mall or something. But if she wasn't in that kind of mood, she could be a bitch." Lela shrugged. "I don't blame her for it. It was just how she was raised."

"I still don't understand why they treat you that way. Why would they take you in if they didn't want a second child?"

"I will never understand either, Miss Lis- I mean, Teresa. I've asked myself that question hundreds of times. But like I say, this happens in pretty much every home I'm in. The parents treat me like dirt, but their own kids can do no wrong."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know."

"All your homes were like that?"

"No," she said slowly. "There was one really good family that I actually grew to love. They treated me well, their kids were respectful. The youngest daughter was my age, and we formed a really strong friendship. Her name was Anna. She was my best friend at the time." She gazed out the window.

"What happened?" Lisbon asked softly. "Why'd you move?"

Lela shrugged. "The state decided it was time for a fresh start. A new family. New parents." She looked back at Lisbon, and Teresa almost flinched. She got a real good look at her face. Even when she looked so vulnerable, she was a spitting image of Jane. "Most of the families resented me, because of my ability to play endless mind games." She smiled deviously. "They hated that. But not Anna's family. They were interested in it. Anna was trying to convince me to teach her how I did everything. But I was only eight years old at the time, and had no idea where to start."

Lisbon pulled into the CBI lot now, and parked her car in her usual spot next to Jane's blue Citroen. She put it into park and took the key out of the ignition, disgusted with herself for what she was about to say. "Have you ever hypnotized anyone?"

Lela looked at her curiously. "What?"

"Hypnotism. You know, if you can play those innocent mind games-" _Innocent, my ass, _Lisbon thought. She knew all about those mind games. Patrick Jane _was_ her consultant, after all. "-then you could probably hypnotize the McGregors into treating you well."

"I've never tried it," Lela confessed.

_Good girl. _"I'm sure Jane could teach you." This was so unlike Teresa Lisbon.

A crooked smile appeared on Lela's - _Charlotte's _- face. "Do you think he'd do that?"

"Of course. Why not?"

Lela shrugged. "Would he really be willing to teach a moody teenage girl?" she joked.

_Maybe not. But he'd be willing to teach his daughter, _Lisbon thought. "He likes kids."

"Ah, but does he like _teenagers?_"

"He likes… people." Teresa smiled.

"He likes _you."_

Lisbon's head whipped around to look at her. "What?"

Lela grinned and rolled her eyes. "What, what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?"

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" A smug smile fixed on her face.

"Oh my God," Lisbon grumbled. "Come on, let's go." She opened the car door and got out. The girl did the same, following Lisbon through the CBI entrance, through the lobby and to the elevators. Lisbon pressed the button and waited patiently, ignoring the workers that were not-so-subtly staring at Lela. Obviously the word had gotten out that Jane's long-lost daughter had been found. Lisbon gave them stern looks, secretly telling them to back off. She held her breath, praying Lela wouldn't notice.

But she was born a Jane, and she did notice. "Why is everyone staring?" she whispered.

Lisbon shrugged as they stepped into the elevator. "It's not very often we get kids here," she said as the doors closed. As they rode the elevator up, Lisbon could feel the butterflies in her stomach. She knew Jane would be angry with her for going behind his back. She knew he'd be frustrated, maybe even hurt.

The whole purpose behind all of this was so he could tell the girl who he was. Who _she _was. He claimed he wouldn't know how to tell her. He was thinking too much about it. He was making it too complicated. Which is why she brought Lela here so it would be spontaneous, and he could just say it like it was. He wouldn't have enough time to come up with a good enough lie or work his way out of it. Sure, he did stuff like that all the time, but this was different. This was his daughter.

The elevator made that dinging noise, and the doors opened. Teresa and Lela both stepped off the elevator, and Lisbon led the girl to the bullpen. _Here we go._

Everyone spotted her at once. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt all looked up from what they were doing, and Lisbon could see their struggle to keep their faces composed. Grace offered her a strained smile. Cho nodded his head. Rigsby set his pen down. They all rose from their seats.

And then Jane walked in.

When he saw them, he stopped, and stared at Lisbon.

She stared back.

"Hi, Mister Jane." Lela smiled at him.

He tore his fiery gaze away from his boss and smiled easily at his biological daughter. "Hello, Lela. How are you?"

"Good. I think." She looked at Lisbon. "I don't know why I'm here."

Jane looked at Lisbon, too. "Hmm. Me either. Lisbon, care to explain?"

"Nope, but I bet you would."

There was fire shooting out of his eyes.

Teresa flushed red, turning to the confused teenage girl. "Sweetie, why don't you wait for us in Interrogation One? We'll be right there."

"Oo, and interrogation room. I'm not a suspect for anything, am I? Because I swear I've never killed anyone."

Rigsby chuckled.

"No, you're not a suspect," Lisbon replied. "We'll be right there."

Lela just shrugged, turned on her heel, and walked down the hall.

As soon as they heard the interrogation room door shut, the fireworks erupted.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Jane exploded. His face was red. His jaw was tight. A vein was pulsing out of his forehead. He was _pissed. _"Why would you do this to me? Why, Lisbon? You know damn well that I have no freaking idea what the hell I'm supposed to tell her! I told you that I needed time! I told you -"

"Jane! Calm down!"

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"I'm your boss. That's my job. Now would you stop screaming at me for a second and listen?"

Both became uncomfortably aware that their three team members were watching them.

Lisbon grabbed Jane's arm and pulled him into her office, shutting the door behind her. She whipped around to face him. "Okay, look -"

"How could you do this to me?"

"Jane, I'm trying to _help _you."

"Uh huh. And how exactly was bringing her in here when I am completely unprepared supposed to help me? I really hope you're not expecting me to tell her today."

"How is shouting at me going to help you, Jane?"

"How is lying to me going to -"

"I'm sorry I lied to you, okay?" she screeched. "I didn't want to do it. I didn't! But I really am trying to help you!"

"_How?_"

"You can get this over with!" she pointed out. "All the suspense and waiting around can be pushed to the side! She'll know who you are! And you'll have your daughter back!" She waited for more yelling, but it never came. "Don't you want her back sooner rather than later?"

There was a brief pause, before he softly said, "Of course I do."

"I'm sure she wants a father sooner rather than later, too!" Lisbon noted his nervous expression. "Don't worry, Jane. You'll be _fine._"

He sighed, leaning forward to look through the window and down the hall toward the interrogation rooms. "What if she doesn't want a father?"

"What if she does?"

"And if she doesn't?"

Lisbon stepped in front of him to look him in the eye. "My father left us when I was young. Even though he _chose _to kill himself, I still lost him. And even though he chose to beat us, _I'd _take him back in a heartbeat if I could."

When she didn't continue, he said, "And?"

"You didn't choose to leave her. She didn't choose to leave you. What makes you think this girl is any different?"

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**I know it's been a long time. I'm so sorry! I finished writing it like a month ago and then my computer broke and I lost my files! When it finally got fixed, the story was gone and I had to start all over again!**

**I hope I didn't lose you!**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

His hand settled on the handle of the interrogation room door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying so hard to convince himself that this would be a good thing no matter what.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes, and the door.

He was greeted by a typical teenage remark.

"It is about time. Did you have to _kill _what you were going to say before coming in here?"

He scrunched his brows together and sat down. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Lela- _Charlotte!_- feigned sympathy. "Sorry. No killing jokes. I forgot you were a cop." She smiled innocently and apologetically. And sarcastically.

Jane stared at her. "First of all, I'm not a cop. Second of all, your smartass jokes don't even make sense!"

She rolled her eyes. "If you were a kid, you'd understand."

"I doubt it."

"What do you need to talk to me about?" she pressed.

"You," Jane answered honestly.

"What about me?"

"If you answer some questions for me, I'll tell you."

Lela sighed and Jane bit back a smile. Clearly, she didn't like bargains.

"I'll answer a few questions, but I get to choose how much of the question I answer," she allowed.

His smile faded. He didn't like bargains either.

"They aren't hard questions," he said softly.

"We'll see." She folded her arms stubbornly.

She really was his kid.

"Do you prefer tea or coffee?" he asked her.

She answered automatically. "Tea."

"Crossword or Sudoku?"

"Sudoku."

He smiled. "Sarcasm or seriousness?"

Her lips twitched. "Seriousness."

"Really?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "No way!"

Jane grinned.

Lela straightened up again, still smiling. "What is the point of these questions?"

He shrugged. "Getting to know you."

"You liar."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Your irises grew and your pupils got smaller," she said. She lifted a hand and placed two fingers just above her neck but below her chin. "Your pulse sped up. Your blinking wasn't regulated-"

"Okay, okay," he interrupted. He sighed. Obviously, he forgot who he was dealing with. "I want you to tell me about your childhood."

"You do realize that I'm still technically a child, don't you?"

"Lela."

"Sorry. I had to." She smiled sheepishly.

He chuckled. "Tell me about when you were younger."

"What do you want to know?"

"What was it like?"

"Pure hell," she replied bluntly. "Next."

"Details would be nice."

The girl bit her lip. "I'm not sure how to explain it," she confessed.

"Try."

She sighed. "My very first memory was waking up on a stranger's doorstep," she admitted. "I was five years old, and I was awaken by a woman, panicked, shaking me. I remember she kept asking me what my name was, and how I got here, and where my parents were." Lela shrugged. "I didn't have any answers for her."

"None?"

She shook her head.

"Not even your name?"

"Nope."

"Do you have any memories of your parents?"

"No."

"And you don't remember how you ended up on that stranger's doorstep?"

"No."

"Huh. Weird."

"You think?" She glanced out the window into the hallway. "Sometimes, it makes me wonder who I really am, and what really happened to me."

_Tell her now._

"_I _know," Jane blurted without giving himself a chance to chicken out.

Lela's eyes went to him. "Excuse me?"

"I know what happened to you."

She just stared at him, incredulous. "You don't know," she said slowly. "Everyone has dug and dug. Nobody has found anything."

"I did," Jane replied softly.

The girl folded her arms and sat back in her chair, not looking convinced. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

"Humor me."

"What? Don't believe me?"

"Not exactly."

"Why not?"

"Because I've been trying to solve this mystery for years," Lela pointed out. "It makes no sense if you solve it after knowing me for just a few weeks. Quite frankly, it isn't _fair._"

"Life isn't fair, Lela."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"Well, I'm going to tell you that I know everything," he said. "I know your real name and your parents' names. I know what happened to them and I know what happened to you."

She just looked at him, so he took that as a sign to go on.

He took a deep breath. "Your name is Charlotte," he said, hands shaking under the table. "When you were five, you were kidnapped by…" He swallowed. "By Red John."

She said nothing.

"He took you," Jane continued. "He must have… brainwashed you or something, since your memory is gone."

She stared, obviously deciding whether or not she should believe him. "My parents," she croaked.

"Your mother was… slaughtered… by Red John." Just saying the words aloud infuriated him.

"And… my father?"

"He's been searching for you for eight long, painful years."

Jane watched as realization slowly began to cross her face. "W- what did you say my last name was?" she stuttered.

Smart girl. She'd figured it out. "I didn't," he whispered.

She still stared at him.

He sighed. "Your name is Charlotte Jane."

Lela's eyes widened. She stood up from her chair and backed away, pointing her finger accusingly. "No way."

* * *

They all watched in complete silence.

They were intrigued.

They stood behind the glass and watched the whole thing. The questions, the answers, the sarcasm, the laughs, the banter, the denial…

And when the yelling started, they all cringed.

Rigsby, Van Pelt, Cho, and Lisbon all stood side-by-side, silently hoping that Jane would get through this.

That's when they all realized they were holding hands. They'd all subconsciously slipped their hands into the next person's, praying for the man on the other side of the glass. And they realized how great of the team the five of them really were.

* * *

"No." Lela shook her head, not believing anything. "You're lying to me. You're not my father!"

Jane stood up. "_Yes, _I am, Charlotte."

"Don't call me that," she snarled, backing against the wall. "My name is _Lela_!"

"I have medical proof!"

"Oh, do you?" she shouted.

"Yes! I do!" he yelled over her.

"Prove it," the girl challenged.

He opened his mouth to fight back when he suddenly realized he _didn't _have medical proof. No papers or anything. Just the memory of a phone call from the doctor. And his boss, who witnessed the phone call.

But nothing else. Not now, anyway.

When he didn't respond, Lela snorted, disgusted. "You're such a liar!"

"Give me a chance to explain!"

"You'd better hurry!"

"Lela!" Jane heard behind him. He turned and was relieved to see Lisbon standing there. "Let _me _explain."

"Teresa, I-" Lela began.

Lisbon's icy glare cut her off. "Let. Me. Explain."

Lela nodded silently.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "Red John killed your sister- I mean Ashlyn- because he knew it would lead us to you. That's our theory, anyway."

Lela was quiet.

"He tries to make Jane's life as miserable as he possibly can," Teresa went on. "We aren't sure what game he's trying to play this time. But you have to know that when I first met you, the very first thing that I thought was, 'Wow. She's so much like Jane!'"

"Similarities. That doesn't mean-"

"For God's sake. Would you _let _me finish?"

Lela clamped her mouth shut.

Jane just watched.

Lisbon continued. "It was my idea to get a paternity test. So… that time we took you in for a check-up? Not really a check-up."

"Knew it," Lela muttered.

"The doctor called and confirmed that you were Jane's daughter." Lisbon glanced at him, then back to his daughter. "You need to know something. That man right there has been battling a broken heart for eight years. He's been trying to find you for nearly a decade. You should have seen how happy he was when he got that call from the doctor."

Jane watched as Lela's- Charlotte's- blue eyes darted from him to Lisbon. She looked at Jane again. "So… I'm really Charlotte?" she asked in a small voice.

Relief washed over Jane's face. He nodded.

"And… and you're my dad?" Her voice cracked a tiny bit.

Lisbon smiled.

Jane let out a carefree laugh. "Yes, sweetheart."

A thousand different emotions were playing upon Charlotte's face. Confusion and satisfaction and hurt and closure and finally… joy!

She sprinted around the table and hurled herself into his arms without any warning. Jane was caught off guard. His eyes widened and he looked at Lisbon frantically. She smiled encouragingly at him.

So he put his arms around his daughter for the first time in eight years, feeling her tears soak through his vest. He didn't care. He was trying to hold back his own tears of joy that were welling up in his eyes. He just couldn't believe he was finally reunited with his daughter.

**So Lisbon saves the day. What are the odds? :)**** Thanks for reading! Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is kind of lame. Sorry! But thanks for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

It took time. It took paperwork. It took lawyers. It took _fighting._

But finally, after months and months of hard work, Charlotte Jane - legally Lela Benson, according to the state of California - finally belonged to him.

It wasn't easy. In fact, it was far from it. It was _hell._

It was amazing how much trouble the McGregors went to, to try and keep their foster-daughter, considering they didn't seem to give a damn about her. According to Charlotte, they had never physically abused her, so reporting them to the social services was a tough thing to do.

When Jane approached them, explaining who he was and his intention to get his daughter back, he truly expected that they'd be grateful to be rid of her. Charlotte did, too. "They hate me," she had said simply. "They'll give me up in a heartbeat."

But no. They accused Jane of being a liar. They claimed that they'd need proof.

So Jane printed Charlotte's picture and information from the Missing Persons' website that hadn't been updated in years. He got a copy of the paternity test results from the clinic. But the McGregors just didn't buy it.

They refused to believe him. In fact, the debate went far enough to court, with Lisbon at his side claiming she was there when the paternity test took place.

When things were finally resolved, and it was proven that Patrick Jane was, in fact, the father of the child, the judge left the decision to Charlotte.

"Lela," he said, looking her directly in the eyes. She maintained perfect composure in her face, considering how nervous she was. "The choice is yours. You may continue to live with the family you are with now…" The judge motioned to the McGregors. "Or… you can return to your father."

Everyone watched her intently. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt, who were in the back row of the courtroom, all folded their arms nervously. The McGregors leaned forward, expectedly. Lisbon pressed her lips together. The judge raised his eyebrows, waiting. The pressure was on Charlotte.

Charlotte Jane turned and looked at Patrick. To him, it was like looking in a mirror.

"My father," she finally decided.

* * *

The night she left, it was awkward, for them and for her.

She was carrying her last bag down the stairs and set it down next to the rest of them, which she had carried all herself, for the McGregors didn't offer to help her. Now, all of her bags sat and waited for the arrival of the social services agent.

They hadn't spoken to her since the court date. For some strange reason, they were _pissed _that she was leaving. Before the court date, they told her if she chose him over them, she'd be a traitor.

Why the hell would they care so much? It isn't like they cared about her!

Charlotte wandered into the kitchen and found them both seated at the table, staring off into space, as if they were both concentrated on something. They didn't even acknowledge the fact that she had walked into the room.

She cleared her throat and began the speech she prepared for herself. "I know you aren't pleased with me," she said. _Why? I have no idea, _she thought. Aloud, she said, "But I just wanted to say thank you, and how much I appreciate you taking care of me."

They both stared at her.

For the first time in days, Darcy spoke directly to her. Or sneered. "And _this _is how you repay us?" she replied icily.

Then, it suddenly hit her. Charlotte finally realized why they were so displeased. They weren't going to get their damn check every month.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "There _are _more foster kids out there, you know!" she snapped.

"Meaning _what_?" Rob shot back.

"Meaning you can just as easily get another kid! You can just as easily get paid for ignoring them and treating them like shit. So don't pretend like you're going to miss me when I'm gone, because you're not! The only daughter you're going to miss is Ashlyn, and I know for a fact that you blame her death on _me, _don't you?"

Rob and Darcy exchanged a glanced.

Charlotte shook her head, disgusted. "Yeah. That's what I thought." She turned on her heel and stomped toward her bags.

"Lela, you come back here this instant!" Rob shouted after her.

"Don't call me that!" she screamed. "My name is _not _Lela!" She bent down and picked up two of her bags.

Darcy was right behind her, and she gave Charlotte a shove, making her lose her footing and stumble a bit. "Your name is what the state of California says your name is! And guess what California says your name is, _Lela_?"

"Well, it isn't _BITCH, _like yours is!"

The slap that she felt rip across her face was sharp, loud, quick, and painful. Charlotte dropped her bags and her hand flew to her cheek, tears forming behind her eyes. She glared up at Darcy, who was glowering straight back at her. Rob was standing behind her, arms crossed, more than ready to back her up.

"You need to learn _respect!_" Darcy yelled straight in her face.

"Oh, _yeaaah!_" Charlotte retorted sarcastically. "Because you've demonstrated perfect examples! Should child abuse be categorized as respect?"

Rob stepped forward, stabbing a finger in her directing. "You deserved it, and don't try to pretend like you didn't!" he thundered.

"God, I even lied to Patrick Jane, promising him that you two never physically hurt me. I thought I was protecting you. I thought it was the right thing to do!" she shouted. "But guess what? I think I may have changed my mind!"

The doorbell rang, making all of them jump.

Just in time.

Charlotte flew to the front door, eager to get out of this prison as soon as she possibly could. A familiar social services agent stood in front of her, looking all business-like. He nodded at her, stepped inside, and helped her with her bags, nodding at the McGregors who didn't acknowledge him.

Charlotte and the agent loaded her bags into the little black car parked outside the house. When they had gotten the last bag, Darcy had slammed the door behind them, and Charlotte heard the little _click, _meaning that it was now locked.

The agent turned to her. "Rough farewell?"

She sighed. "You have no idea."

* * *

He was seated at his table in his hideout, smirking at the wall. He had a pen in hand, a blank piece of paper in front of him.

The plan was falling into place. Patrick Jane had his precious little girl back. He was already falling in love with the idea of having a daughter again, not to mention the possibility of him falling in love with that lady boss of his.

Patrick Jane was almost happy again.

_Perfect, _he thought.

_Something else to take away from him._

He picked up his pen and scribbled a short little note, a note addressed to Mr. Jane, and signed it with his famous red smile.

**See? Lame. Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for the great reviews! I appreciate every single one of them!**

**I enjoyed writing this chapter. There's a little bit of Jisbon :)**** This chapter, (and possibly the next one) is supposed to take place BEFORE the last one. Just to clear things up :]**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_3 DAYS EARLIER…_

"Jane?" came Lisbon's voice from behind him.

He turned to see her balancing a huge moving box in her arms. "Oh, Lisbon! Let me help!" he insisted, rushing over to her.

She glared at him over the box. "I'm a cop, remember? I'm probably stronger than you."

He took the box from her anyway, moving it into the kitchen and setting it on the ground. He brushed his hands together. "Is that it?"

"Yep," she replied. "The moving truck already left."

"Tell me again why the others aren't helping."

Lisbon sighed. "Cho is celebrating his anniversary with Elise, Grace went out of town, and Rigsby…" She paused. "I'm not sure what Rigsby is doing."

"Probably sitting at home, happy he got out of it."

She smiled. "Yeah, probably. But they all promised they'd come tomorrow, first thing in the morning, and help unpack."

In a matter of just one week, he'd managed to sell his Malibu home, (which, secretly, was extremely hard for him, considering this was where he'd lived with his wife and daughter before Red John happened) move out of his Sacramento apartment, make an offer on a larger home in the suburbs of Sacramento, and sign the papers. Now, he was in the process of moving everything he had (which really wasn't much) into this new home as well as attempting to furnish Charlotte's room. This wasn't easy. He wasn't used to having to pick out furniture for a teenage girl.

Which is why he _loved _having Lisbon around.

"Of course I'll help you!" she'd joyfully agreed a few days earlier. He'd been somewhat embarrassed to ask her for her help, and admitting that he had no experience whatsoever, but she'd just waved off his excuses and agreed without questioning.

Now, she said, "Since they aren't here, tomorrow morning, we'll put them all to work and _we'll _go shopping. And maybe to breakfast." She smiled again.

He looked up. "Shopping?"

"For Charlotte."

"Oh. Right."

"Do you know her favorite color?"

His lips twitched. "Do I look like I'd know what her favorite color is?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're right." He chuckled. "When a person walks into a room, you can always tell what colors they like and dislike."

"Really."

"Yes. Really."

"Do explain."

"I'll give you an example." He leaned back against the kitchen island, glancing at the clock. Six p.m. "When Lela walked into the clinic, she was admiring the portrait on the wall. Do you remember the picture?"

"No."

"A beautiful scenery with rolling hills, and trees. But what really caught her eye was the almost-turquoise blue sky."

"So she likes blue."

"She loves blue."

"And what does she dislike?"

"Grey."

Lisbon laughed. "You and your analyzing. It's freaky."

"Hey, she does the same thing. I'm sure she's already figured out what your favorite color is. I have." Jane grinned.

"Really," she repeated.

"Yep. Yellow."

She laughed. "You freak."

He smiled, analyzing her.

She was wearing a plaid button-up shirt with a collar and sleeves that were rolled up just below her elbow. She had faded blue jean shorts with rips by the pocket, and her dark curls were pulled into a messy ponytail.

She looked so casual, yet so beautiful at the same time.

"What are you staring at?" she asked cautiously.

He smiled reassuringly. "Nothing."

She rolled her eyes, but she just couldn't resist smiling. She reached down and picked up the paint bucket at her feet. "We should go paint Charlotte's room."

"Now?"

"Yes," she said. "The paint needs time to dry, and after we get all her stuff tomorrow, we'll need to move it into her room." She smiled at him. "Come on, lazybones!" With that, she turned and walked toward the staircase, paint still in her arms, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following her.

They reached the upstairs, and walked down the hall to Charlotte's room, which was very plain, and the walls were _very white._ Jane was surprised to see that the paint paper was already laid on the carpet, taped across the window, and lining the doorways.

He eyed Lisbon suspiciously, who just shrugged. "I knew we'd be painting."

Jane chuckled as he began opening the bucket of turquoise paint he'd bought, pouring some into the tray that sat next to the wall. Then, after he glanced around, he said, "Uh oh."

"Oh, crap. What happened?" Lisbon asked.

"I forgot to buy paint rollers."

"Great. So what _do _you have?"

"Brushes."

He honestly expected her to be angry, but instead, she just laughed. "_Nice,"_ she added sarcastically. Still chuckling, she reached into the bag next to the paint tray and pulled out two brushes, sticking one in his hand. "Get to work, spacey."

"What the hell did you just call me?"

He watched as Lisbon dipped her brush into the blue paint, and she moved over a bit, away from the tray, so she could begin painting. He watched her make small, careful strokes across the white wall, leaving blue in her path.

He made sure she wasn't paying attention, and, as quietly as he possibly could, he submerged his brush into the paint, pulled it out, and flicked the bristles of the brush in Lisbon's direction, causing blue paint to go flying toward her.

She shrieked and jumped up, startled. Jane, who was trying so desperately to look innocent as he pretended to paint, was making a great attempt not to burst out laughing at her bewildered expression. But when he looked up, she was glaring at him. It threw him over the edge, and he broke into a fit of laughter.

"Very funny," Lisbon muttered as she tried to work the paint out of her hair.

That only made Jane laugh harder, and suddenly, he had dropped his brush and fallen back onto the brown paper that was spread all across the room. It made a crinkling sound as he fell back onto it. "_That_," he managed between chuckles. "was for 'spacey.'"

Before he knew it, a huge blob of turquoise paint was flying over him, and it nailed him straight in the face. He let out a gasp, sitting up quickly. His eyes opened slowly, just in case any paint from his forehead would drop into his eyes, and he looked at Lisbon, who was now rocking with laughter over in her corner.

"Oh, Teresa." He spoke slowly, seductively, so he could get her attention. "It. Is. On."

She grinned, and lunged for the paint tray. She dunked her hands into the paint and threw a handful of blue toward him, splattering it all over his non-three-piece-suit shirt. In the meantime, Jane had the _bucket _of paint in his hands, reaching in and hurling paint in her direction.

It was a war.

Lisbon had managed to shove him against the wall and snatch the bucket from him after she'd run out of paint in the tray, and was now in the process of flinging blue straight in his face.

Jane, on the other hand, was fighting against the flying paint and hurried around her, so he was behind her, and trapped her in his arms. She struggled to get out, giggling and shrieking at the same time, but he just laughed and reached over her into the bucket, smearing the paint all over her face.

After a few minutes of fighting, the paint was gone. And they were a _mess. _Jane, who was now in possession of the empty bucket, dropped it, and collapsed onto the ground, leaning against the wall. Lisbon plopped down next to him, and they both looked at each other, smiling.

"Truce," they said in unison, and shook hands.

They just sat there for a few minutes, not saying anything. Jane finally looked over at Lisbon, who was just smiling contently. She was covered from head to toe in blue paint. Her hands were at her sides, placed on the ground, right next to his.

Slowly, cautiously, he slid his hand closer to hers, just so their fingers were touching. Even the smallest touch sent electricity shooting through him. Lisbon looked up, the most stunning emerald eyes looking into his.

"Listen, Lisbon…" he whispered, looking down at their now-intertwined hands. "I just… I want to thank you. For everything."

"Of course, Jane."

"Please, let me finish," he requested. "I _never _could have done this without you," he confessed. "You've done so much for me. You took me to that clinic, and you held my hand, you were the only one who could figure out that I was afraid. You helped me pack and move. You held me… while I cried."

Lisbon leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Your moral support has been amazing," he finished. "So, thank you."

She looked up at him, smiling. "Anytime," she said softly.

He wasn't sure what motivated him this time. Maybe it was because he'd flaked out on all the other opportunities he had. Maybe it was because he was so grateful for her. Maybe it was because she looked so damn cute, even if she was covered in paint. He didn't know why, but he cupped her face with his paint-covered hands, and kissed her.

He wasn't sure what exactly he expected. Maybe he thought she'd pull away. Maybe he thought she'd punch him. He didn't know, but she did neither of those things. Quite the opposite, in fact. She snaked one arm around his neck and pulled him closer, the other hand settling on his chest.

His stickler-to-the-rules boss was deepening the kiss.

They pulled back when oxygen became an issue. Both of them were breathing deeply, trying to get air back into their system. They were still holding each other, and when they got a good look at each other, they both laughed.

"I think I may need a shower," Lisbon told him, laughing again.

Jane nodded, smiling. "Me too." When he saw her panicked expression, he quickly revised. "I'll take one _after _you."

He had to chuckle at her relieved expression.

He stood, taking her hand and helping her up. "I've already got towels and shampoo and all that in the bathroom. I'll just find you something dry to wear and leave it outside the door."

"Thanks." She smiled, before turning and heading off to the bathroom.

Jane could tell she was a bit dazed. He couldn't blame her. He felt the same way.

**I had a lot of fun writing this one. His daughter wasn't part of it much, but it was still REALLY fun. Did you think so? Did you not? I want to know! So, review! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for the reviews! They make me smile. This chapter is about Jane and Lisbon again. Sorry! I had to. Kind of a form of… foreshadowing. The next chapter, Charlotte will re-enter. I promise. :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"So, basically, we got _nothing _done."

"Pretty much," Jane replied.

They both stood in the doorway of Charlotte's new room, staring at what they'd done. The brown paper and the walls were splattered randomly with turquoise paint. It was such a mess.

"Well, damn," Lisbon laughed.

Jane grinned.

While she was in the shower, Jane dug through his boxes and found a t-shirt and pajama bottoms that he knew wouldn't fit Lisbon. However, since he had nothing else, he just set the neatly folded outfit outside the bathroom door and went downstairs to throw her paint-covered clothes into the washing machine. When Lisbon finally bounced down the stairs in the clothes he'd left, he had to laugh. They were too big for her, just as he'd predicted. But she looked adorable.

Now, they both stood in the doorway of the room, hair wet, in pajamas.

Lisbon sighed. "I guess we better get to work."

"Lisbon. It's late. Let's just do it in the morning."

"It's like… eight-thirty."

"So?" he whined.

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not letting you get out of this," she said. "Besides. In the morning, we're going to get Charlotte furniture, remember?"

"Because _that's _fun?"

"Stop being such a baby and get to work."

They worked for hours, exhausted and in serious need of sleep.

When they were _finally _finished, it was a little before midnight.

"Done," Lisbon breathed, flopping down onto the carpet.

Jane nodded. "Finally."

"Mhm," she mumbled in agreement. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at the time, groaning. She sat up and yawned. "I should probably be going. It's late." She smiled. "_Now _it's late, anyway."

"Stay," he blurted.

She looked up at him. "W-what?" she stammered.

"I mean," he went on quickly. "Just stay here for the night, so you don't have to go all the way back home. It is late and… you look exhausted." He laughed.

"Jane, honestly. I'm fine with driving back."

"Well I'm not."

"It isn't like I've been drinking."

"I know, but still. I don't mind having you here, Lisbon. I _like _having you here," he admitted. "Just stay. Please?"

She deliberated that for a moment. "I don't have any clothes for tomorrow."

"I'm washing the ones from today right now."

"But the team-"

"Won't even know," he finished for her. "We didn't have work today. You were _here, _helping me move and unpack. Nobody will know." He smiled reassuringly. "It isn't like we're doing anything. You're staying the night because you helped me paint my daughter's bedroom, and we didn't get done until almost midnight."

She eyed him skeptically.

He held his hands up. "Alright. Whatever. Just trying to help."

She smiled. "I'll take you up on that."

His face lit up involuntarily. "Really?"

She nodded. "I don't really want to drive back home." She shrugged. "Thanks."

"No problem." He glanced at the doorway. "I'm going downstairs for some tea. Would you like coffee?"

"Tempting. But it'll keep me up. I'll stick with tea."

They both walked into the hallway and down the stairs.

Lisbon sat down at the kitchen table and watched Jane prepare their tea. When the kettle squealed, he took it off the stove, finished his preparations, and brought both cups over to the table. He handed Lisbon hers and took a seat across from her.

When Jane yawned, Lisbon smiled. "Tired?"

He nodded.

"Ready for bed?" she asked.

He glanced at her, smiling. "No."

He watched her blush, and he knew that she knew what he meant. Of course he was ready for bed, but he wanted to stay awake and talk to her.

"Are you nervous?" she asked out of the blue.

"Nervous? For what?"

She motioned around the room with her hand. "This. Everything new. Having your daughter back. Does it ever make you nervous?"

He pondered that for a brief moment, setting his teacup down. "Sometimes," he confessed. He looked up and into her green eyes. "Sometimes I lay awake at night and obsess over how happy I am that I have my little girl back. I think of all the memories I have of her when she was small, and how she always used to say 'Daddy, come play with me!' or 'Daddy, can you teach me how to hypnotize people?'" He chuckled. "She always wanted to be just like me. But… I failed her."

"Jane."

"I did, Lisbon. I failed her, and I failed her mother. It's no secret."

She didn't say anything. She just traced the rim of the cup with her pinky finger, sighing and shaking her head.

"Sometimes… I wonder what Red John has in store for us," he whispered, glancing out the window into the night. "I wonder what sick game he's playing this time." There was a pause that hung in the air. "I'm not sure what I'll do if he takes her again."

"Jane."

He just shook his head.

"Patrick, look at me."

He looked away from the window and into her eyes again.

She was leaning closer now, staring at him. "We will protect her," she promised. "As long as I'm involved in this, I'm not going to let anything happen to that girl again. Okay?"

"Lisbon. This is _Red John _we're talking about."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to her," she repeated.

"But-"

"She. Will. Be. Safe."

The intensity in her voice made his arguments halt in their tracks. She was staring into his eyes, and he knew everything would be okay.

For now.

"Okay," he whispered.

She smiled. "Good." She looked at the clock. "Are you ready for bed?"

He yawned, nodding. "I hate nights."

"Why?"

"They're the times when I'm… _especially _lonely," he explained. "When I had Angie, I knew that if I were ever to be awake in the middle of the night, she'd be there. She'd be next to me. I'd never be alone." He paused. "Or… when she was out of town, visiting her parents or something, I'd always have my little girl right down the hall." He smiled sadly. "I don't have that anymore."

Lisbon, at loss for words, thoughtlessly took his hand across the table, surprising both of them. Jane looked at their interlocked fingers.

"Starting in a few days, you will have your little girl right down the hall again," Lisbon murmured. She grinned. "And I'm going to be her favorite aunt _ever."_

Jane smiled. "I have no doubt." He yawned _again. _"We should go to sleep."

She nodded, pulling her hand away. She stood up from the table, making her way toward the living room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jane asked, grabbing her by the arm.

She looked down at his hand, confused. "To the… couch…" she said slowly. "I think I saw some blankets in a box in there-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lisbon. You'll sleep in my bed."

"Oh, Jane. I don't think that-"

"Not with me," he explained. "I'll take the couch. Really. I don't mind. I sleep on a couch half the time anyway."

"Jane, you need your sleep."

"So do you," he argued.

"Your house, your bed, you sleep in it." She smirked, and started off for the living room again.

"Lisbon-"

She whipped around, a hint of a smile on her face. "Jane," she said sternly. "Sleep. In. The. Damn. Bed."

He raised his arms in surrender, turning and heading up the stairs.

* * *

"_Dad?"_

_He was breathing hard, gasping and panting. His eyes were on the monster. He wasn't going to back down. He was going to end this. Now. Right now. Finally._

"_Dad… what's going on?"_

_He turned around, eyes wide. "Charlotte, get away from here."_

"_But-"_

"_Charlotte. Get away from here _now!"_ he shouted._

_The girl just stood there, confused. But when she glanced around him, she gasped._

_A gunshot rang through the air. His daughter's mouth clamped shut, her eyes widened, and she crumpled to the ground. A pool of blood began to form around her._

"_NO!" he screamed, lunging toward her. When he glanced over his shoulder, the killer was gone. He'd gotten away._

"_This can't be happening," he breathed, turning back around. "Charlotte! Charlotte, can you hear me?"_

_No response. His girl didn't move._

_Tears began streaking down his face, and he shut his eyes. _This isn't real, _he promised himself. _This is not happening. This is not happening.

"_Jane?"_

_He jumped, startled, whipping around. Lisbon was standing there._

"_Lisbon! Please, help!" he wailed. Then, he noticed._

_Her nice, white blouse was stained crimson. Her face was pale. Blood was tricking down her arms, legs, and face._

"_Lisbon?" His voice cracked._

_She began to stumble toward him, but she tripped, and she went down._

"_LISBON!" he screeched._

"I'm right here, Jane!"

His eyes flew open, and there she was. She had her arms on either side of him, holding him down. He was gasping for breath, in a cold sweat. He could feel tears flowing out of his eyes.

"Jane, are you alright?" she asked.

He swallowed. "What happened?" he croaked.

"You were… screaming," she replied. "You were screaming my name." She let go of him, lifting her hands off of his body slowly.

Jane glanced over at the clock. 2:18. "I'm so sorry, Lisbon," he apologized, wiping a fresh tear off his cheek. "That is the second time I've done that to you."

"Done _what _to me?"

"Made you… come to me," he stammered. "And… comfort me." He sat up, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry." To his despair, he started crying even harder than he already was. Damn.

He felt her arms go around him. "Jane."

He didn't answer her.

"Jane, I'd do this every single day if I had to," she whispered.

He raised his swollen face from her shoulder, pulling back to look at her in the dark.

"Don't you get that, Jane?" she asked him quietly.

"Get what?" he breathed.

"I will always, _always _be here for you."

He rested his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he said, closing his eyes. "I do."

**I **_**promise **_**that the next chapter will move past this J/L fluffy stuff and get to Charlotte. :)**** Thanks for reading. Review?**


	10. Chapter 10

**I had fun writing this one, not gonna lie. It's pretty long. Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"This is your room." Patrick made a gesture with his hand. "I, um, hope the furniture is relatively your taste. I didn't pick it out. Lisbon did." He ran a hand through his blond curls and bit his lip. He walked over to the dresser and set the bags he had in his hands next to it.

His daughter had arrived just minutes ago with the social services agent. The agent had helped Charlotte with her bags, passed her off to Jane, and left. The look on Charlotte's face when she got out of the car looked somewhat irritated, but when she got into the house, the expression went away.

Charlotte smiled at him. "The furniture is perfect," she assured him, setting the rest of her bags down.

His face lit up. "Really?" he asked. "You like blue… right?" He glanced around, noting that he probably went a little over the top. Blue walls, blue bedspread, blue lampshades, blue rug. He chuckled softly. Oops.

"I love blue." Her smile widened, also noticing the very-blue room that she would be living in. Jane suddenly noticed that her room matched her eyes, which meant the room probably matched _his _eyes, too.

"Good. I'm glad you like it." He looked around the room. The very, very, very blue room. "Well… I can leave you alone to unpack. Your bathroom is right across the hall. Just holler if you need me." His phone start to rang, and he excused himself.

"Hello?" he answered once he was downstairs.

"Is she there yet?" Lisbon asked.

"Yes," Jane replied. "But… I think something is bothering her."

"Like what?"

"I don't think the McGregors were particularly supportive of her departure." He rolled his eyes, even though Lisbon couldn't see him. He knew the McGregors weren't supportive. Hell, they'd done everything in their power to try to keep her. Just the thought of those terrible people made his skin crawl. Who did they think they were? They treated her like crap, yet they still put that girl through hell trying to keep her.

"They treated her terribly," Lisbon commented, practically reading his thoughts through the phone.

"I know," he said, shrugging. "We'll figure that out later. Right now-"

"Patrick!" he heard Charlotte call in a frantic voice.

His heart sped up. "Lisbon, I have to go." He snapped his phone shut and sprinted up the stairs. He hurried into her room, halting in the doorway. "Charlotte. What is it?"

She was standing at the window, her back facing him. She was holding something in her hand, looking down at it, as if she were reading something. Even from behind, he could easily read her body language. Concerned. Worried. Confused. _Scared._

He came up behind her and glanced over her shoulder, his heart dropping into his stomach as he caught sight of a red smile drawn at the bottom of the page.

_Charlotte, my dear, it's been too long. The last time I saw you, you were unconscious on a strange woman's doorstep. So small, so tender, so vulnerable. I would love to see you again. Something tells me your father disagrees. Well, tell Daddy he better be careful. He'll know what I mean. ;)_

* * *

The team huddled around the table, eyes wide, gaping at the page. Jane was standing at the end of the table, glaring at the piece of paper. Charlotte was sitting in a chair against the wall, arms folded, staring out the window. Jane had to admit he was kind of impressed. She was handling all of this quite well. She stayed calm the entire car ride to the CBI, while he was sitting in the driver's seat on the verge of a panic attack. She was coping so much better than he was. He hated himself for everything that was happening, because he knew it was his own fault. He had known this would happen. Red John led the CBI to her for a reason. He wanted to taunt them. Jane should have seen this coming. In a way, he did.

Cho was the first to speak. He glanced over at Charlotte. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I'm fine," she croaked.

"We're going to protect you, Charlotte," Lisbon promised. "We're going to keep you safe."

"I trust you," Charlotte said in a raspy voice.

"That's a good thing," Van Pelt added. "It's good that you trust us, because you're probably going to be seeing a lot of us."

Jane's daughter just nodded.

"So… you just found this in your bedroom?" Lisbon asked Charlotte, perplexed.

She nodded again. "I was unpacking, and I found it in my dresser."

Lisbon looked at Jane. "When were you out of the house?"

"I wasn't," Jane huffed, frustrated. "That's what makes me so angry! You and I brought the rest of the furniture in last night, including the dresser. You went home, and I had not left my house! Charlotte arrives, and finds this." On her first day!

There was a heavy silence pressing down on everyone as what Jane said started to process.

"Could it be possible that the note was placed in the drawer before you brought it home?" Van Pelt asked.

Lisbon shook her head. "When we carried the dresser in, I opened all the drawers to make sure they, you know, opened and closed properly. There wasn't anything in any of the drawers."

"Are you sure?" Van Pelt asked. "I mean, are you sure you didn't just… miss something?"

"I'm sure."

"So… Red John was in your house… while you were there…" Rigsby spoke slowly, fists slowly clenching.

At Rigsby's words, everyone reacted differently. Jane pressed his lips tightly together. Charlotte stiffened in her seat. Van Pelt's jaw dropped. Cho looked away. And Lisbon looked absolutely _furious._

"How the hell did he get into your house?" she demanded, throwing a frantic glance in Jane's direction.

"I don't know, Lisbon." He sighed heavily. "I just don't know anymore."

Lisbon looked at her team. "Okay, everyone. For now, just get back to work and we'll figure everything out later." She watched her team nod absently and wander off to their desks, lost in their own thoughts. She looked back at Jane. "Can I see you in my office?"

Jane glanced over at Charlotte. "I'll be right back."

Jane and Lisbon retreated to Teresa's office, who, after shutting the door behind them, turned to face him. "What are we going to do?" Not something you heard Teresa Lisbon say every day. Normally, she knew exactly what to do.

Jane opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"I promised both of you that I wouldn't let anything happen to her," Lisbon pointed out. "And I intend on keeping that promise."

"This is Red John we're dealing with."

"I understand that."

"I don't think you do."

"Yes. I do."

Jane let out a ragged breath. "This man murdered my wife," he began. "He kidnapped my little girl, wiped her memory, changed her name. He is the reason she was _miserable _in those foster homes. He is the reason we were separated for eight years. He broke into my house _while I was there _and I didn't even know." Jane shook his head, disgusted. "This man is capable of so many things. He'll kill her if we're not careful, Lisbon. He could kill _you."_

"That's not going to happen, Jane," she insisted.

"How do you know?" he asked. "How do you know it isn't going to happen?"

"Because we'll be ready."

"We had Kristina Frye's house _surrounded. _There were guards standing in front of every single room in that house. The man can walk through walls, I swear to you. Grace was right downstairs when he snuck in and took her."

"I liked Kristina and all, but Charlotte is so much smarter than her."

"What do you mean?" He knew it was true but wasn't quite sure what _she_ meant.

"Charlotte didn't do anything to provoke Red John, Jane! Kristina did!"

"It doesn't mean he won't come after her!"

"Jane, look at me."

He didn't.

"Look. At. Me."

He raised his eyes slightly to do as she said.

"I will protect her. _We _will protect her. Okay?" Lisbon said.

He nodded slowly, glancing out at the worried blond girl in the bullpen. "I should go talk to her." He started to leave when Lisbon put a hand on his arm.

"Maybe you should let me do that."

He opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it and let her go.

Lisbon walked into the bullpen and stopped in front of Charlotte. The girl raised her head to look at her father's lady boss.

"Come on, Charlotte," Lisbon said. "Let's go for a drive."

* * *

"Are you okay with everything?" Lisbon asked Charlotte once they were on the road. It wasn't until after the question was asked that she realized how stupid it sounded.

"Not really," Charlotte confessed. "But I'll be alright." She glanced around. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Just for a drive. I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

Lisbon shrugged. "Everything. I want to get to know you."

"Why?"

"Because Patrick is my good friend, and I'd like to get to know his daughter."

A smile tugged at Charlotte's lips.

"What?" Lisbon asked.

Charlotte shook her head. "Nothing. It's just…" She shrugged. "_Good friends _is a bit of an understatement, don't you think?" She put air quotes around _good friends._

Lisbon glowered in her direction. "What are you implying?"

"What do you _think _I'm implying?"

Teresa rolled her eyes, definitely not in the mood to play that game again. "Tell me about you," she requested, changing the subject.

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about your friends."

"I don't have many," Charlotte confessed. "And the few I have don't even know what's been going on with me. All they know is my foster-sister was murdered by a psychopath. They still think my name is Lela."

Lisbon scrunched her brows together. "You haven't been in contact with them?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Not lately. That won't be a problem, though. I start school in like, two weeks."

"Eighth grade?"

"Yep."

"Well, I want to know about your friends," Lisbon repeated.

Charlotte rested her folded hands in her lap. "Most kids think I'm strange. You know, because I'm the orphaned _supposed-psychic _that bounces around foster homes." She put air quotes around _supposed-psychic. _"But some see past that. Like Macy and Alex."

"Tell me about them."

"Macy is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. She has wavy auburn hair and navy blue eyes. Her eyelashes are so long they look fake, and she has freckles that dot across her nose and super-rosy cheeks. Her parents are divorced, so she lives with her mom and little sister. Macy's a sweetheart."

"And Alex? Is Alex a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," Charlotte said.

"What's he like?"

"He's cute," Charlotte blurted out, and a rosy color highlighted her cheeks, making Lisbon smile. "He has dirty blond hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. He's really smart, and funny, and thoughtful. He… protects me at school."

"How so?"

"Like, whenever someone makes a comment about my 'mysterious past', he'll just step in front of me and lead me away."

"He sounds like a good friend."

"He is." Charlotte smiled. "At school, the three of us were like a package. Alex, Macy, and Lela." She frowned. "Only now, it's not Lela."

"Alex, Macy, and Charlotte," Lisbon said.

"Meh, Charlotte doesn't really roll off the tongue."

Lisbon almost laughed out loud at the sound of Patrick's daughter saying _meh. _She was such a Jane. "Okay. Alex, Macy, and… Charlie." She grinned.

Charlotte burst out laughing. "Sure. That works."

Lisbon's smile widened, pleased with herself for temporarily taking Charlotte's mind off of Red John.

"What else do you want to know?" Charlotte asked.

"Everything."

"Ask me anything."

Lisbon drove around town for nearly two hours, trying not to think about how much gasoline she was wasting. Right now, she didn't really care. All she cared about was the girl sitting next to her, laughing with delight as Lisbon told her endless stories of her father's crazy crime-fighting skills and how much trouble he's gotten them into in the past.

Meanwhile, as they drove past Patrick and Charlotte's new neighborhood, neither Charlotte nor Lisbon became aware that someone was watching them. Someone they'd been trying to take their minds off of for hours. He just sat peacefully in his former kidnap-victim's brand new bedroom, which was a bit too blue for his taste. He smiled as their car passed, both targets so oblivious. He stood up and walked over to the bureau against the wall, opening the top drawer. His previous message was gone. She must have found it. He smiled again, shutting the drawer and exiting the bedroom. He walked to the end of the hall and dug through the moving box that had _PICTURES _written on the side of it in black pen. He finally found what he was looking for. A photo of a too-happy-looking Jane kid. The girl was just a small child there, no older than three or four. She was in a fluffy pink dress, blond curls pulled into a white bow, beaming at the camera. Chuckling, the intruder acted on what he knew would make Patrick Jane _crazy. _He pulled out a red marker, drew his signature smile over the photograph, and left it sitting on the protective father's bed, waiting to taunt him when he arrived home with his oh-so-perfect daughter.

**Oh, the suspense. Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**In this chapter, the mood shifts a bit at the beginning, and slips into dark suspense at the end. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"Jane, we have a situation."

His eyes fluttered open, and he was staring up at her from the comfort of his couch.

She flicked her eyes up and down his entire body, which was sprawled out nonchalantly on his damn couch. "How in the hell can you possibly be lounging so comfortably after everything that has happened this afternoon?"

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side and placing them firmly on the ground. "You kidnapped my daughter. At least I didn't have to worry about Red John doing that."

"I did not kidnap her."

"You didn't tell me you were taking her, either."

"You watched us walk out!""Lisbon, that is quite besides the point. What is the situation? It isn't Red John, is it?" He glanced around. "Where's Charlotte?"

She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "Break room with Rigsby." They both glanced into the kitchenette, where Charlotte was seated at the table and Rigsby was just chattering away.

"Poor girl," Jane muttered, smiling.

"You're in an oddly happy mood, considering."

"Why? Because I smiled?"

"A few hours ago you were furious."

He shrugged. "What can I say? She makes me smile." He glanced at his daughter again.

Lisbon couldn't help but smile, too.

Jane looked at his boss again. "Quit stalling, and tell me what the situation is."

"She has not seen her friends since all of this has happened. Since Ashlyn was killed."

"Who?"

"Charlotte!"

"Really?"

She nodded. "According to Charlie, her friends still think her name is Lela."

Jane narrowed his eyes. "Did you just call her Charlie?"

She blushed. "I may have."

"Where did you come up with that nickname?"

"It isn't uncommon, Jane."

"My wife was the only one who called her Charlie."

Lisbon swallowed. "Sorry, Jane," she apologized. "I didn't even realize. We were just joking around in the car, and-"

"It's okay, Lisbon," he replied. "It just surprised me, that's all." He paused. "Anyway. Her social life isn't going well, huh?"

"Not really. Like I say, her friends still think she's Lela Benson."

"Okay... What do you want me to do about it?" he asked.

"Well, you're the dad."

"I'm aware."

"You should talk to her. Let her know that you're okay with her having her friends come over."

He stared at her. "Lisbon, I understand where you're coming from. And believe me, once this whole mess is behind us, I would agree with you one hundred percent. Possibly even take your advice."

"Oh, how big of you," she sneered sarcastically.

"But," he went on. "I can honestly say that I don't think her social life is on her mind right now."

"She's a teenage girl, Jane. Of course her social life is on her mind. Always."

He sighed, crossing his arms and peeking at his daughter again. "You think?"

"I _know."_ She smiled encouragingly. "I get what you're saying, though. But even if she doesn't hang out with her friends anytime soon, I'm sure she'd still like to know you'd be okay with it. If all of this Red John crap wasn't happening."

"Speaking of..."

"Yes?"

He bit his lip, sighing again. "Do you think she's scared?"

Lisbon flicked her eyes in Charlotte and Rigsby's direction. Rigsby was telling some sort of story with a huge smile painted on his face, and Charlotte had her head thrown back in laughter, her long, blond curls bouncing against the back of the chair.

"I would be," Lisbon admitted. "I'm sure she is, on some level."

Jane nodded.

"But I think she's a lot like you. More frustrated and angry and ready for all of this to be over with," Lisbon continued. "She's just like you, Jane. Truly."

Jane smiled, glancing at Charlotte again. "It's so funny that everyone says that, because even if there's some of me in her eyes, I can see so much of her mother, too."

* * *

"I'm going to be honest with you. I truly don't believe her father's CBI team is going to take their eyes off of her for a minute! The girl will be the most well-protected teenager in the state. It'll be nearly impossible to get her."

He chuckled darkly, switching his phone to his other hand. "Never say _impossible_," he told his beloved little accomplice. "I will find a way."

"How?"

"Don't ever doubt me," he warned. "You know that has never been of good use to the rest of my victims."

His accomplice sighed. "I'm not doubting you. I've seen what you can do."

"Good. Then we understand each other."

"I just hope you have a plan."

He laughed again. "I _always _have a plan."

* * *

"Boss," Cho said after he hung up the phone. "We have a case."

Jane's heart nearly stopped.

Cho read his mind. "It isn't Red John," he assured him.

From across the room, Charlotte spoke up. "Can I come?"

"No," Lisbon answered automatically.

"Why not?" she asked. "I won't get in your way, and I'll do whatever you tell me to. I swear!"

"No, Charlotte. It's too dangerous."

"Honestly, Charlotte. It can get pretty ugly," Grace added.

"Is anything worse than the body of a Red John victim?" Charlotte wondered, startling everyone.

"Uh, not really," Rigsby admitted.

"Then I can handle it!" She looked at her father. "Please?"

Everyone sighed, knowing Jane wouldn't be able to refuse her.

Jane looked at Lisbon. "Oh, come on, Lisbon. You each have guns. If anything goes wrong, you'll be able to protect her."

"That's not the point, Jane. We get distracted while working on cases. What if something happens so quickly we can't even-"

"I'll be by her side the entire time," Cho promised. Everyone looked at him, surprised. "Seriously. I won't let her out of my sight."

Charlotte smiled at him. "Thank you, Agent Cho."

"Guys, not that I don't love hearing everyone argue, but we're kind of wasting time," Rigsby pointed out, grabbing the keys to the van.

"Shotgun," Grace called, following him out of the bullpen.

"Come on, Charlotte," Cho said, gesturing with his hand for her to follow him. "We'll take the van with them."

* * *

"The victim's name is Bailey Asher. Seventeen years old, one gunshot wound to the chest." Lisbon slipped her gloves on.

Grace looked around. "Where are the parents?"

"Stuck in traffic," Lisbon replied. "Bailey was found here..." She made big gestures with her hands and arms, indicating that the girl was found here, in the woods. "...by a jogger."

Cho looked over at Charlotte. Her face was white, her lips were pressed together in a hard line, hands wrung together. She was staring at the body, looking ill.

"You okay?" Cho asked quietly.

She swallowed, nodding.

"We warned you-"

"It's not the body," she whispered. "It's... the victim."

"Did you know her?"

Charlotte nodded slowly. "She was a few years older than me. Nice girl."

"Are you alright? Do you need to-"

"No, I'm fine."

Cho nodded, turning his attention back to the current victim.

Charlotte pointed at the victim's clothing. "See those rips on the side of her shirt?" she asked the group.

Everyone glanced at Asher's shirt.

"And notice there's no blood around?" she went on.

They all nodded.

"She was killed elsewhere, and dragged here." Charlotte walked around the body and looked down at her hands, pointing. "You could probably find some DNA or whatever on her hand."

"How?" Rigsby asked.

"See those scratches?"

Rigsby nodded.

"Either a woman was dragging her by the hands and dug her nails into Bailey's palms..."

They all waited, watching her incredulously.

"Or?" Van Pelt prompted.

"Or... There's a man out there with ridiculously long nails."

Every single one of them team members was staring at her, mouths wide open. Except for Jane. He, too, was watching her, but he had the biggest grin on his face. A smile of pride.

"Dear God, there's two of them," Cho muttered, pulling his own gloves onto his hands.

* * *

"I think I proved Lisbon wrong," Charlotte said to Jane once they were in his light blue Citroen.

He laughed. "Yes. Yes, you did."

"Do you think that hard-ass boss title is just an act?"

Jane smiled. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I know for a fact that she has weaknesses."

"Oh, really?"

Charlotte nodded. "I'm sure _you _know the story, but I don't. Something happened to her during her childhood that causes her to drive painfully, and I do mean painfully, slow. Maybe she was in an accident, I don't know. And frankly, it isn't my business. But I have a feeling car accidents are a weakness. Uh, dogs. Another weakness. Coffee, Lifetime Movie Network, you, and children, even if she doesn't-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a second!" Jane exclaimed, turning to look at her.

Charlotte, smart girl that she was, knew exactly what he was talking about. "Oh, come on, Patrick. You can't tell me that you don't see it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. I know that she's a weakness of yours, too."

"_What?_"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Nothing."

"No. Explain."

"Nah."

"_Charlotte Anne Jane._"

His daughter burst out laughing at the sound of her full name that she'd never known until very recently.

Jane stayed stone-faced. "I am not joking."

"I'm aware, believe me."

He waited.

She sighed. "You don't have to have my - our - kind of skills to see that you and Teresa Lisbon were meant for each other." She shrugged. "_Of course _you don't have to have people skills to figure it out. Half the CBI building sees that you two are falling for each other."

He snorted. "Please. It was one kiss," he blurted, immediately regretting it.

"_You kissed her?"_ Charlotte squealed excitedly. "When?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it does!"

He just glared at her.

"Just admit that you have feelings for her. I won't tell anybody," she promised.

"Well... I suppose I have _feelings _for her," he confessed, never taking his eyes off the road. "That doesn't mean I'm falling in love with her. And why the hell am I arguing about _this, _of all things, with a thirteen-year-old?" That last question was made for himself.

"Because I'm the smartest thirteen-year-old you'll ever meet," Charlotte quipped, making Jane smile.

"Tough luck, sweetheart. This conversation is over."

"You're the worst."

"So I've been told."

He was pulling into the driveway of his new house, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Thanks for letting me come today," Charlotte said. "I already thanked the team. I don't think they were particularly happy about me being there."

"They were just worried about you," Jane told her, opening his door.

When they were inside the house, Jane flicked the lights on and threw his keys on the kitchen counter. Charlotte immediately went to the cupboard in search of tea, making her father smile.

"You know, Charlotte," he began. "When everything kind of, you know, calms down, maybe you could have a few friends over. I'd love to meet them."

"They don't even know my name isn't Lela."

"That doesn't mean they still won't love you."

"I know." She shrugged. "It's just going to be weird explaining everything."

"Tell me about it," he muttered, quiet enough that she didn't even hear him.

He watched her make herself some tea, turning it down when she offered to make him some, too. He studied her face, her hair, her body language. Everyone said that she was a spitting image of him, both appearance and personality, but he saw so much of Angela in her eyes, despite the color difference.

"I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed," Patrick told her. "I know it's your first night here, so if you need anything, and I mean anything, don't hesitate to come get me, okay?"

She nodded, smiling. "Alright."

"Goodnight, Charlotte."

"Goodnight, Patrick."

He'd have to work on the whole _Dad_ thing.

He dragged his feet up the stairs, wondering if she would notice that a CBI SUV would be parked in the front of the house all night long. He hadn't told her that Rigsby and Cho would switch shifts every few hours, guarding the house. She probably already knew. She was smart like that.

Jane pushed his door open, yawning and kicking his familiar brown shoes off. It had been a _long _day. He walked over to his bed, fully intending on falling back onto it, and when he noticed what was on top of the bedspread, his breathing shifted, then stopped completely.

A picture of his beautiful little girl on her fourth birthday. A pretty dress on, blond curly hair pulled up into a white bow that her mother had been so proud of. _"It's an old Christmas ribbon," she'd said. "Charlie's hair is thick enough that it actually stays in." _His daughter was smiling warmly at her uncle Danny's camera, so pleased to be turning four years old. It was a perfect picture.

And it was ruined by his enemy's goddamned red pen, threatening her with her life.

**Sooooo... What do you all think is going to happen next? Will he take her? Will he kill her? Will Jane kill **_**him? **_**You can already kind of see that the team is getting a little over-protective of Charlotte... :) ****I'll continue, and try to update soon, but only if you REVIEW! :D Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I REALLY need to get both of my current fics done, because I have so many more ideas that I really want to write about! If you happen to follow my other fic, **_**Flashbacks, **_**I am having a very difficult time writing this next chapter. Just so you know! Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews! You guys are amazing!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately.**

Teresa flopped down onto her bed, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. What a day! Starting off with panic, then getting to know the daughter of her consultant, and ending the day with yet another frustrating case. She had to admit she was surprised by how much help Charlotte had become. She'd noticed things her father hadn't, shocking _everyone._ Lisbon knew how wrong it had been to take a thirteen-year-old girl with them to solve a murder, and she almost hated herself for wishing it _wasn't _wrong, because Charlotte knew what she was doing and _could_ be a great help to the team...

She was also pretty amusing. On several occasions, Lisbon had to calm Rigsby down after a fit of hysterical laughter caused by Charlotte. The two now had their little inside jokes that would crack them up (mostly Rigsby) and cause a diversion. All in all, Charlotte was distracting, but she could be pretty funny without even meaning to be. Like when Rigsby had put his hand on the car door and immediately yanked it back because of the intense heat, crying out in pain, and Charlotte had scoffed and told him he was being a baby. Rigsby had just raised his eyebrows, grabbed her wrist, and set her hand onto the ridiculously-hot surface of the car door. Charlotte's blue eyes widened, and she jerked her hand away, shrieking. "AH! SON OF A BITCH!" she screeched in a high-pitched voice, causing chuckles to erupt amongst the team at the thirteen-year-old's totally inappropriate language.

Lisbon liked her. She had a good sense of humor, but also a good work ethic, which was surprising and impressive for a girl her age with her kind of background and personality.

Not only did Lisbon like the girl, but she also liked the fact that Jane was _happy. _She could definitely see the look on his face when he was around his daughter. He seemed content, almost serene. There was absolutely no question that he loved that little girl with all his heart, no matter how many years they'd been apart.

Lisbon found herself slightly jealous of him. Of course, it had been _her _choice not to have kids. She worked too much and she just couldn't raise a child on her own. But seeing the way Jane looked at his daughter, and the way Charlotte looked at her father made Teresa suddenly wish she had that kind of relationship with someone. Someone she could call _hers._ Someone she could be proud of and watch grow up, someone she could spoil.

She liked to think that she could be a good mother. She'd practically raised her three younger brothers when she was just a teenager, and she also liked to think she'd done a good job with them.

Would she be a good mother, if she were to ever have a baby?

She _would _like to be married before she had a baby, just so she'd know she wasn't in it alone. However, her luck with relationships was _not _good at all. But a girl could dream. Lisbon let her mind wander to what her life might be like if she met the right man. Beginning with flirting, no doubt. Probably that rush of exciting electricity whenever arms would accidentally brush against each other. Huge smiles. Laughs. Falling madly in love. Maybe, if he proposed, he'd kiss her on the lips with enough passion to last her entire life when she said yes. She'd look at the ring lovingly, every single day. When they married, Grace would be her maid of honor, and her brothers would be right up front, grinning encouragingly at her. They'd dance their first dance to _More Than Words_ and she'd look into his bright, blue eyes and-

She stopped herself, mouth dropping open. "_Shit, _Teresa!" she scolded herself sharply. She shook her head, hard, trying to forget about every thought that just went through her head. What the hell was she thinking?

"Idiot," she grumbled to herself, pushing herself up off the bed and running her fingers through her hair. She couldn't believe she'd let her mind run away with her like that! Was she crazy? Of course, she may be slightly _attracted _to Patrick Jane. Who wouldn't be? He was an attractive man. Tanned, blond, blue-eyed, drop-dead gorgeous...

But he was also her colleague. Her extremely annoying, stubborn, arrogant, incorrigible, pain-in-the-ass consultant. Her friend, in spite of everything she'd just listed. Nothing could happen between them.

But there _was _that one kiss...

And that time they almost kissed on the roof.

And that time where Jane claimed he was going to kiss her, but fell asleep.

And all those other times she prayed he _would _press his silky-looking lips to hers and-

_STOP IT! _she screeched inwardly.

But her alter ego argued with her. _For God's sake, Teresa, _it screamed. _Stop freaking denying it. You are in love with your sexy consultant, and the idea of you two getting together, having a kid, and raising it along with Jane's daughter. You are absolutely in love, so stop trying to deny it. Admit it to yourself._

"I can't be in love," she said aloud, completely on accident. "I can't be. It isn't possible." She shook her head, unwilling to believe that she was actually arguing with herself. Out loud, at that.

Her cell phone rang, making her jump, and she whipped around. She walked over to the bed and glanced at the caller ID, heart leaping. _Patrick Jane._

Attempting to pull herself together, she took another deep breath, and flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Lisbon, I need your help," came Jane's low, frantic voice, so obviously on the verge of panic.

"What's wrong, Jane? Isn't Cho there?"

"I don't know. I need you, right now."

"What's wrong, Jane?" she repeated.

"Please, come. Now."

"Jane! Tell me what's wrong!" she demanded. "That's an order!"

"He was in my house. Again."

In the muffled background, Lisbon heard Charlotte's voice. "Let me talk to her."

Jane ignored his daughter. "Lisbon, I think we need to send her somewhere."

"Hell no!" she heard Charlotte shriek.

Again, he ignored her. "Off to Hightower, maybe. I don't know, but she isn't safe here."

"Okay, listen to me and answer my question! How do you know he was in your house?" Lisbon asked, trying very hard to keep her voice restrained.

"There's a picture here. It's of Charlotte when she was little, and he drew a red smile over the top of it," he told her, panic arising in his voice.

"Okay, Jane. Don't... don't panic. I'll just call Cho and have him go inside and he'll take a look around. Meanwhile, I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Please hurry, Lisbon."

She'd never heard him so freaked out.

She hung up the phone with him, exhaling slowly, deeply, trying to calm herself down. She opened her phone and speed-dialed Cho, shifting from one foot to the other anxiously as she put her jacket on.

"Boss?" he answered.

"Cho. Are you at Jane's?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I need you to go inside."

There was a pause on the other end. "Uh, why?"

"Jane is freaked. Red John was in the house again."

"What?"

"They'll explain everything. Just... Please, Cho. Keep them safe. Please," she begged in a weak voice. "I'll be there in ten." She was already making her way down the stairs, fidgeting with the buttons of her jacket. She rushed to the front door, throwing it open, and hurrying down the apartment stairs to the parking lot.

"I'll keep them safe, boss," Cho promised.

"I know you will," Lisbon replied. "Oh, and one more thing-"

But she didn't get to finish her sentence. As she found her car, she was greeted by a large blow to the side of her head. She yelped, the phone flying out of her hand and slamming into the window of a stranger's car. Teresa was going down to the pavement, eyes fluttering shut. The last thought she had before darkness overcame her was Jane's promise to her, so long ago. "I'm always going to save you, Lisbon, whether you like it or not."

_Please let that be true._

**Uh oh. Not good. Not good at all. Predictions? Ideas? Thoughts? That's what the little review button is for! I'd LOVE to hear what you think! Especially today, because I've had a terrible, TERRIBLE day that only writing can make a **_**tiny**_** bit better. Reviews would mean the world to me, today especially. Now that I've rambled, thanks for reading. :]**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for your reviews! They made my terrible day a bit better. :D I'm beginning to like this story very much, so I got this chapter done fast!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_But she didn't get to finish her sentence. As she found her car, she was greeted by a large blow to the side of her head. She yelped, the phone flying out of her hand and slamming into the window of a stranger's car. Teresa was going down to the pavement, eyes fluttering shut. _

As he was knocking on Jane's door, Cho's eyes widened. He'd just heard his boss cry out in what must be pain, a _crack_, and the line went dead.

"Boss?" he barked into the phone. "Boss!"

The front door opened, and there was Jane, looking just as panic-stricken as he felt. "Cho," Jane greeted him. Behind him, Cho saw Charlotte sitting at the kitchen table, looking somewhat bored. Jane stepped aside so Cho could enter the house.

"Jane, we have a problem."

"Yes, Cho. We have several problems. Red John was in my house. _Again._"

"Listen to me, Jane," Cho ordered. "I think Lisbon's hurt."

Out of the corner of his eye, Cho saw Charlotte stiffen in her chair, glancing up at the two of them.

Jane's jaw dropped. "W-what?" he stammered.

"Lisbon. I think she's hurt," Cho repeated.

Jane swallowed. "Why do you say that?" he whispered.

Cho raised his phone. "I was just on the phone with her. I... I heard something slam into... her, I think. The sound was close to the phone, so probably a blow to the head. Then I heard her cry out, and a smash. The line went dead after that."

Jane was silent. Cho took this opportunity to glance over at Charlotte. She was leaning back in her chair, lips pressed together in a tight line, arms folded across her chest.

"Oh no," Jane whispered.

"Do you think..." Charlotte trailed off, looking down at the ground.

Jane nodded. "Yeah," he breathed. "He got her."

* * *

Her eyes slowly forced themselves open, and she was awake. She suddenly became aware of how much she hurt. Everywhere. Her head, especially. It was _pounding _with a head-splitting migraine. Her wrists were chafed, and she realized she was cuffed.

The room she was in was dark. Pitch black, to be frank. She lifted both cuffed hands up to feel one side of her head. Crusted. She assumed it was blood.

What the hell had happened?

"Awake, sleeping beauty?"

The dark, cynical voice made her jump. It was coming from the opposite end of the black room, and it was followed by wicked laugh.

"Agent Lisbon. Welcome."

She didn't say anything. She was focused on the fact that she was actually trembling with fear.

"I'm so glad you could join me," the voice went on. "I have been looking forward to this for quite some time, I must say."

She swallowed.

"Oh, my dear, don't be afraid." He was coming closer. Her skin was crawling. "This is not about you. Please don't think this is about you! I think it goes without saying that this is about your lovely colleague, Patrick Jane."

She stiffened. Her fists clenched.

"You won't be alone for long," he promised. "I intend on recruiting one more person for this little... get-together. I'm sure you know who she is."

Finally, after building up her courage, Teresa spoke. "You'd better not touch her," she growled through clenched teeth.

Another awful chuckle. "You still don't get it, do you?"

She stayed quiet.

"I didn't want to kidnap you, Teresa. You have done nothing except befriend the wrong kind of people. Well, _person_, really. It's a pity." Even in the darkness, she just knew his expression was mock sympathy. Smugness. "But I had to take you. I had to cause a diversion."

"A... a diversion?" she croaked.

"Yes. Surely by now Patrick knows you're gone. With my little obvious break-ins, it's sure to drive him mad. But now, I have you. There is no doubt that he is _panicking._ I'm willing to bet he's half-crazy."

She bit her lip, trying not to swear at this son of a bitch.

"Anyway. The diversion," he went on. "After everything that has been happening, the Jane girl is extremely well-protected, am I right?"

She just pressed her lips together.

"Agent Lisbon," he barked. "Am I right?"

"Yes," she answered automatically.

"So, I had to cause a distraction. By now, the CBI is searching high and low for you. Which, by the way, they won't find you. With all of that searching, they'll be too busy to focus every ounce of their attention on Patrick's daughter. Which gives me a clear path to her."

"This won't work," Lisbon whispered. "She's a smart girl. She'll see this coming."

She heard him take another step closer to her. "She is smart," he agreed. "Just like her father." Lisbon heard him chuckle. Again. As if _any _of this is funny. "The poor thing. In the short amount of time I had her, years ago, I actually grew quite fond of her. She amused me."

Teresa didn't answer.

"I'm assuming she doesn't remember anything that happened?" he asked.

"No. She doesn't."

"Would you like to know?"

"Why, yes. That would absolutely _thrill _me."

"Ah, sarcasm. You'd better be careful, Agent," he purred, causing chills all up her spine.

By now, her hands were shaking. She just wished he'd turn on the damned light.

And then, he began his story. "The television hadn't been on when all of this started," he told her. "I was actually preparing dinner when my... friend called me and informed me that Patrick Jane, the well-known psychic in the area, was talking about _me_ on live TV." He paused. "My friend... you'd probably remember her. She killed your friend Samuel."

Lisbon's heart stopped. _Rebecca._

"Anyway," he went on. "I'd been preparing dinner when I get the phone call. I turned the television on, and there he was. Patrick Jane. Your friend." Yet another dark chuckle. "And let me tell you, Agent Lisbon, I know about you two. Lovers?"

"No," she defended quickly. "We never slept together."

"But you wanted to."

"N-no. How is this relevant? Get to the part where you kidnap Charlotte."

"Easy there, Teresa. I'm getting there."

She was silent.

"_Anyway,_" he continued. "Patrick was flaunting his skills on national television. Arrogant. Self-obsessed. Proud. I could see it in his eyes. He didn't deserve to be happy. He still doesn't." There was a content sigh. "I went to his home. At night, of course. It all adds to the effect. A brutal murder at night. His lovely wife was in her bedroom, reading some sort of romance novel. She didn't hear me come in."

Teresa tried to fight a shudder.

"Now, the daughter _was _asleep in her bedroom, so she didn't hear her mother's cries. The poor girl didn't even wake when I lifted her from her bed and literally walked out the front door. I drugged her, so she'd wake at a certain time, a certain place." He took another step closer. "My timing was perfect. She awoke in the very same place you're in. She was scared, asking where her mommy was." Lisbon heard him huff. "Her _mommy. _She didn't ask for her father. What does that tell you about him?"

Lisbon cleared her throat. "He's a good father," she told him.

"Sure he is. _Now. _And do you want to know why? Because I took her! Because he thought he lost her! He gets her back, of course he's going to be a good father! He feels guilty!" He laughed. "I like to take credit for it. If it weren't for me taking _everything _away from him, if he still had his loving Angela Ruskin and had never lost his little Charlotte Anne, he'd probably still be the selfish, con-artist bastard that he was."

"He loved them," Lisbon whispered.

"Because he had to."

"That isn't true."

"Humor me."

"Because if he didn't love them, he wouldn't have been so devastated when he lost them." God, she couldn't believe she was actually arguing with a psychotic serial killer. Was she stupid?

Silence fell in the air for a few seconds before she heard him applauding slowly. "Well done, Miss Lisbon. I have to say, I'm impressed."

She waited, wondering what he meant.

"You really have gained his trust, haven't you?" her captor asked, clearly as a rhetorical question. "Enough about Patrick. Would you like to hear what happened to the Jane girl?"

As if she really had a choice. "Yes."

"I took off my mask. Showed her my face."

Lisbon shifted uncomfortably. The floor she was sitting on wasn't exactly welcoming and this situation didn't make it much better.

"I introduced myself. I told her my name. I promised her I wouldn't hurt her."

"But you did."

"I didn't," he disagreed. "I simply allowed someone else to hurt her."

"Who?"

"Nearly every foster family she stayed with, including the last family. The one with the daughter I murdered? But no, Miss Lisbon. _I_ didn't hurt Charlotte." He paused. "I kept her here. I got to know her. She was only five years old, so I gained her trust quite easily. That's how kids are. Give them a cookie and they'll love you forever."

"You didn't-"

"No, I did not rape her," he sneered, nearly reading her mind. "Please give me _some _credit."

Teresa bit her tongue, attempting not to say anything that might get her killed right then and there.

"I have friends everywhere. Powerful friends. Friends who can get me whatever I need," he said. "Like... drugs that can wipe someone's memory. Drugs that can wipe a child's memory even better than a grown man's. Which is exactly how I cleared your little teenage friend's mind."

Lisbon noticed he was taking little pauses here and there. She wondered if he was trying to build suspense for the fun of it.

"After her memory was completely gone, I gave her more knockout drugs. She was out like a light. The poor dear seemed so serene and content while she slept. I almost felt... _guilty _for doing what I did." He snickered. "Almost. I said almost."

_Please save me, Jane!_ her mind screamed.

"I dumped the kid on a stranger's doorstep in the middle of the night. Do you remember when I said I have powerful friends?"

"Yes."

"Well, I pulled a few strings. Next thing you know, Charlotte Anne Jane's DNA read Lela Marie Benson." He sighed. "I let the foster care system take care of her from there. I waited for the right moment to bring the CBI to her."

"Why?" Lisbon blurted.

"Why did I bring you to her?"

"Why, everything?"

"I killed her mother to make her father crazy. I kidnapped _her_ to make her father crazier."

_Son of a bitch._

"You probably know why I kept the girl alive. But I'll just refresh your memory," he said. "I knew that bringing her back to Patrick would make him _so _incredibly happy. And it did. Right?"

"Right," she murmured.

"You understand that I really don't like to see Patrick happy, yet I love taking away from him."

"Please," she begged. "_Please _don't hurt her. You can... you can kill me. Slowly, if you'd like. Torture me. Videotape it and send it to Jane. I don't care! Just... please don't touch Charlotte!" Teresa felt hot tears stinging behind her eyes.

"That's very noble of you, Agent Lisbon," he mused. "I can see you have already began growing attached to her, haven't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, shocking herself with the truth.

"This may sound like a ridiculous question." He was close now, closer than he had been before. Too close. "But you do know who I am, correct?"

She swallowed. "Correct," she rasped.

"Tell me anyhow."

"Red John."

"Ah, but do you know who I _really_ am?" he asked. "Do you know what my given name is?"

_Should I?_ "Um. No," she confessed.

"Not to worry," Red John told her. "I will enlighten you, right before I kill you."

**Yes, I know. I'm very mean. Proud of it, too. (: Please review!**

**More reviews = faster updates. ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**I will be without internet next week, so I'll try to update my stories as much as I can so I don't leave you guys hanging too badly. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

"What's this about?" Rigsby yawned as he dragged his feet into the bullpen. "It's one in the morning." He looked around. "And where's the boss?"

"She's missing," Grace told him, panicking. "We think Red John took her."

Rigsby's eyes widened.

Jane, who was pacing frantically, stopped. "We don't _think. _We know." He started pacing again.

"What's going on?" Rigsby asked. "I don't understand."

"Cho was on the phone with Lisbon, and he heard a bunch of noises, and Lisbon's yell," Charlotte chimed in.

"We went to Lisbon's apartment," Cho said. "She wasn't there. But her car was."

"Has Red John left any clues as to where he is?" Grace asked.

"No!" Jane exclaimed, frustrated. "That's what I don't understand! By now, he'd normally be taunting us. Leaving a small yet distinctive trail that leads to nowhere. A trap. He hasn't done that."

"She's alive," Charlotte said simply.

Everyone turned their heads to look at her, incredulous.

"Excuse me?" Jane snapped.

"She's alive," she repeated.

"How do _you _know that, Charlotte?"

"Red John wouldn't kill her unless he had a reason."

Jane sighed heavily. "He _does. _He wants to hurt me!"

She shook her head. "He'd play with you first. Dangle her right in your face. I wouldn't be surprised if he lured you to where they are, and killed her right in front of you."

Jane's nostrils flared. "Don't. Say. That."

Charlotte was taken aback. "Say what?"

"If he were to 'lure' me, he wouldn't kill her. I wouldn't let that happen, not if I were there."

"I'm not saying that's what _would _happen!" Charlotte defended. "I'm just saying that it's probably his plan."

"She has a point, Jane," Cho piped in.

Van Pelt and Rigsby nodded in agreement.

"Great. So the thirteen-year-old is right. Bravo," he sneered sarcastically. "That isn't the point! In the meantime, Lisbon is with _Red John._ Are you listening to me? Do any of you understand what that means? Do any of you know what it's like to be held hostage by a psycho? Any of you?" Clearly, it was meant as a rhetorical question.

"Actually, yes," Rigsby argued.

Everyone turned and glanced at Charlotte, who was staring at her father.

_That's right, _Jane thought spitefully.

"She doesn't remember it," he whispered.

"Bits and pieces are coming back to me."

Everyone flinched, surprised.

"_What?_" Jane demanded.

"I'm starting to remember," Charlotte told everyone. "Not a lot. Just tiny details."

"Like what?"

"Like... I was in the dark for a while. And it smelled like wood.""That's it?"

Charlotte nodded, shrugging. "Sorry."

"It's okay, sweetie," Grace comforted her. "It's a start."

Charlotte looked straight at Jane. "You need to relax. Quit arguing with everyone! It's not going to help us find Lisbon any faster. If anything, it'll slow us down."

"She's right, man," Rigsby put in.

"We need a plan," Grace offered.

Jane nodded. "I know," he said in response to both Grace and Charlotte.

After a moment of silence and deliberating, Rigsby spoke everyone's mind. "What the hell do we do?"

"We wait," Charlotte said.

Everyone turned to her, incredulous for the umpteenth time tonight.

"What?" Cho asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Is _anyone _listening tonight? We _wait_! Sooner or later, Red John will give us something to work with."

"There's no waiting with Red John." Jane tried to keep his voice calm. "He has Lisbon, Charlotte. We can't take risks. We can't _wait. _We need to act _now."_

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Anything is better than waiting."

"If we do anything now, he might catch on. He'll kill her if we get too close."

"Jane, listen to her. I think she may be right," Rigsby insisted.

Patrick took a deep, frustrated breath. "What do _you _propose we do, Rigsby? Kick back, relax, wait around while Red John is off somewhere with our boss, probably torturing her!" He shook his head. "Waiting around," he scoffed. "Not happening."

"If you'd calm down for about two seconds and listen to what your daughter has to say, you might actually see that she isn't as naïve as you think," Grace snapped.

"Everyone stop arguing!" Charlotte shouted, causing all attention to be turned to her. When everyone was quiet, she looked at her father. "Patrick. Please, just listen to me," she begged quietly. "I want her back as much as you do. That isn't going to happen if you don't listen to anyone but yourself."

Jane looked around at everyone's stressed faces, looking just as worried as he felt. Their eyes were silently pleading him to calm down, to think rationally. His daughter's eyes showed a million emotions. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Et cetera.

"Okay." He tried to smile at Charlotte. "We wait."

* * *

He climbed into the driver's seat of his light blue Citroen, watching his daughter put her seatbelt on, but he didn't even bother to put his on. He didn't start the car. He didn't make any moves to put the key into the ignition. He just sat there, staring out the window.

"Are you okay?" Charlotte asked quietly.

"Not really," he answered honestly.

She nodded, understanding. "We'll find her."

"It's Red John. What if we don't?"

"You found me," she pointed out.

"He practically hand-delivered you to me."

"Still. You got me back. Doesn't that say something?"

He smiled at her. "It certainly does."

"I'm just surprised he kept me alive."

"Don't say that."

"I'm just saying."

"Look," he said, changing the subject. "I'm sorry for the way I acted back there. I tend to get a bit... crazy when it comes to Red John."

She laughed once. "I can kind of tell."

He chuckled, finally putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he sighed. They didn't speak. Jane thought about Lisbon, hoping and praying that she was alright, and he assumed his daughter was doing the same thing.

All of a sudden, she spoke up. "Take this next exit."

He looked at her, startled. "Why?"

"Just do it," she instructed urgently.

"Tell me why, Charlotte."

"Do it now! You're going to miss it!"

Hesitating, he did as she said and looked at her again, eyes wide. "What the hell?"

"You know how I told you my memory is starting to come back to me, piece by piece?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I know where Lisbon is."

**Yes, I know. You hate me right now. But I will try to update ASAP, as long as you guys REVIEW! :D**

**So, if any of you read my other fic **_**Flashbacks, **_**I'd appreciate if you went to my profile, and voted at the poll on the top of the page. I'm having trouble choosing a name for the baby. Your help would be much appreciated. ;)**

**Anyway, now that I have rambled, your reviews would make me very, very, very happy! :D**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for the reviews! This chapter is pretty intense, not gonna lie.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

"Look, if you're going to kill me anyway, you might as well reveal yourself now," Lisbon suggested.

She heard him sigh. "Ah, I wish I didn't have to."

"Reveal yourself?"

"Kill you."

She rolled her eyes without thinking, and was grateful it was too dark from him to see. "You _don't."_

"Of course I do."

"Why?"

"I really, really love tormenting Mr. Jane. And I know that he really, really loves you."

"No kidding? I hadn't noticed. And no, he does not love me."

He chuckled darkly. "Ah, the sarcasm. It's a very nice touch to your... guarded personality."

"Thank you."

She heard his footsteps walking away from her. "I'll be back," he said. "I'm off to kidnap the girl."

XXXX

"So you're telling me you know where Red John took Lisbon?" Jane demanded, driving faster than Lisbon would consider dangerous.

"Yes."

"Then tell me now!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"This way, I get to go with you. You won't just drop me off with Grace and go play hero all by yourself."

Jane huffed, glancing at her. "This isn't a game, Charlotte. This is dangerous. This man is a killer."

"Yeah, I know. He had me once, he could have killed me then."

"But he didn't."

"Exactly. I'm not afraid of him."

Jane scrunched his eyebrows together, looking at her to see if she was bluffing. She didn't seem like she was lying. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really."

"I still don't want you anywhere near him."

"Frankly, I don't want to be anywhere near him, either. But I'm not letting you go alone and do something stupid."

"Not in my nature."

Charlotte laughed.

She _laughed?_

"How the hell can you be laughing at a time like this?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're the one that made the joke! You can't just go through life with a pissed-off look on your face."

"I don't! But at times like this, yeah. I panic a little!"

She sighed. "Take a left."

He eyed her skeptically, but followed her instructions. "How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

He was beginning to lose patience. "How do you know where he took her?"

There was a pause, a silence, while Charlotte pondered that. After a minute, she said, "I don't know. I just... it came to me. Just like other things are coming back to me." She shrugged. "It's like he timed it. He timed my memory to come back at this exact moment, when we need it the most."

"You're right," Jane replied. "Do you think your memory might be misleading? Do you think he's playing with us?"

She shrugged again. "No idea. I guess there's only one way to find out. Take a right."

* * *

He sat in his car, a small, devious smile fixed on his face. He waited.

He knew they'd be coming shortly.

He'd left Teresa Lisbon locked in the dark room, cuffed and tied up, though he didn't go far. Just about a hundred yards from his little hideout. According to his accomplice, their plan was working out _perfectly. _The CBI team was frantic, drowning in panic. The only sane one out of them all is the teenage girl, who is now leading her father to this exact location, now that her memory is coming back.

It'd just be a matter of time before she remembered who _he_ was.

But that wouldn't be a problem, because by then, he'd have her.

She'd be his to kill.

* * *

"Keep driving. It's pretty far up here."

"Do I even want to know how you remember exactly how to get there?"

She shook her head. "_I _don't even know, nor do I want to."

"Maybe you _don't_ know. Maybe your mind is playing games, or he's playing games."

"He, as in Red John?"

Jane nodded.

"Maybe," she considered. "It's worth a shot. _If _this is just a trail that leads to nothing, he'd probably leave us some sort of... clue. Or a hint that Lisbon's alive."

"Or dead," he blurted without meaning to, immediately clamping his mouth shut.

"Shut up. She's not dead. Okay, this is the creek. We still have a few miles."

"This doesn't exactly look promising."

"I was kind of thinking the same thing." Charlotte paused. "You know what? It actually looks perfect for this kind of thing. The exact setting where a crazed serial killer _would_ take his kidnap victims as hostages." She gestured with her hand out the window. "It's the middle of the night. We are almost literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees that must be hundreds of feet tall. We're driving on a creepy dirt road with only one other set of fresh tire tracks, which must belong to the serial killer himself."

"Okay, I get your point." By now, Jane could feel the adrenaline beginning to build up inside of him. He felt around his pocket for the gun he'd stolen from Lisbon's desk and stashed into his jacket. He felt awkward taking it, especially from Lisbon. She wouldn't like it.

She'd hate it a lot more if they left her with Red John.

"This is it," Charlotte murmured, pulling Jane from his train of thought.

He suddenly became aware that they had stopped at a small cabin. There were no lights on. No car to speak of. It just looked like a small, abandoned cabin.

The no-car thing didn't make any sense. What about the fresh tire tracks?

"Oh my God," his daughter whispered, barely audible. She was staring at the cabin, mouth wide open.

"What?" Jane demanded, taking his seatbelt off and turning in his seat to face her. "Do you recognize it?"

She nodded slowly, still staring at the house.

"It's probably just your memory coming back," he told her softly. "This is most likely where he took you eight years ago."

She swallowed. "Patrick." Her voice sounded foggy, as if she had just woken up.

"What is it, Charlotte?" He heard the familiar panic arise in his own voice.

"I- I remember who... it is. What his... his name was... is. He told me, and... and I remember," she stammered.

Jane's eyes widened. "Red John?"

Again, Charlotte nodded slowly, absently.

Jane grabbed her forearm. "Well, tell me, Charlotte! Tell me!"

As she opened her mouth to speak, a bright light flooded the car. Charlotte looked behind Jane, and gasped. "DAD! WATCH OUT!" she screamed.

Jane whipped around just in time to see a pair of headlights coming straight toward them, faster than he had been driving on his way up here.

The car hit them, hard, on Jane's side of the car, and the last thing that ran through Jane's mind before he blacked out, was that his daughter had finally called him 'Dad'.

**I know what you're thinking. "That figures." ;) I love cliffhangers... at least when I know what's coming next :)**** But yes. I know I'm very cruel. That **_**was **_**a bad cliffhanger. She was SO close to unmasking Red John. Oh well. Next time, perhaps. ;) Review? Pleeeeease?**


	16. Chapter 16

**I haven't abandoned this story, I promise. I really hope the readers haven't abandoned it!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_His bride was walking down the aisle toward him in the most beautiful dress he'd ever seen in his entire life. White and creamy. Rhinestone-covered flowers that bordered her sash. Strapless. The colors accented her dark hair. It was beautiful. She was beautiful._

_Patrick smiled at her. He wondered if she was smiling back. He couldn't see. The veil was covering her face. Weren't they supposed to be somewhat transparent?_

_His eyes flicked over to the bridesmaids, each smiling at the beautiful woman walking toward him. Charlotte and Grace each wore champagne-colored bridesmaids' dresses and pretty floral necklaces. Grace's hair was curled and flowing across her shoulders, and Charlotte's was fashioned in her usual ringlets and pulled up._

_Behind him, Patrick heard Rigsby whisper, "She looks beautiful, man." Jane glanced behind him, smiling at Rigsby and Cho._

_Minelli, who was smiling broadly as he linked arms with the bride, turned to raise her veil and kiss her on the cheek, the bride's back to Jane. Minelli smiled before letting her go and taking his place in the front row of the pews._

_When Jane's fiancée turned around, he gasped._

_She wasn't smiling as she took his hand. She had a broken expression, tears streaming down her face. Lisbon's head was pouring blood, now staining her white veil and gorgeous dress._

_"Teresa!" he screamed, catching her before she fell. "Teresa, stay with me! Please!"_

_Suddenly, there was no one. Nobody was in the church, witnessing what was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. It was just Patrick and his lovely, bloodied bride, whose eyelids were now slipping shut._

_"PLEASE! NO!" he sobbed, shaking his head back and forth. "TERESA!"_

_"Daddy..." He heard a whimper behind him._

_They weren't alone._

_Jane turned his head, panicked, as he watched his daughter stagger toward him, an empty look in her eyes._

_"Charlotte, stay back. Don't look. It's going to be okay," he lied, tears blurring his vision._

_He almost didn't notice the blood that was pooling below her, and the tears in her bridesmaid dress, and the gashes in her throat._

_"CHARLOTTE!"_

_He watched her knees buckle, eyes shutting involuntarily, as she collapsed to the floor._

_"CHARLOTTE!"_

His eyes snapped open. That dream had been all too familiar. He'd had it before. Recently. He immediately noticed that he was sore all over. His legs, arms, head, his entire body. What the...

Then he remembered.

Lisbon. Red John. Charlotte leading him here. Her recollection. Her stammers. Her screams. The headlights. The crash...

Charlotte calling him 'Dad'.

Oh no.

Jane looked over into the empty passenger seat, moaning in pain at the sudden movement. "Charlotte?" he croaked, eyes widening at the realization that the passenger seat was empty.

"Charlotte?" He whipped around, wincing at the pain, eyes scanning the backseat. She was nowhere to be seen.

He swallowed hard, turning back to face the abandoned cabin. She'd recognized this. She'd been here before. This is probably where Red John took her when...

Red John.

It all made sense.

He'd been waiting for them to come. He was lurking in the trees, in his car, for the right moment to slam into them, to make Jane black out, to give himself just enough time to kidnap Charlotte.

Red John knew Charlotte would tag along. He knew she wouldn't take no for an answer. She was a Jane.

He'd been planning this. It was him.

He had Lisbon, and now he had Charlotte.

The _bastard._

The two people he cared for the most. Red John really was clever.

And Jane hated him for it. Now, more than ever.

He took deep breaths, trying to pull himself together as he pulled out his cell phone, intending on calling Grace for help. He didn't even need to see the damage done to his car to know it wouldn't be drivable. He had experienced it. He just knew.

No service. That figures.

If he hadn't been in so much pain, he probably would have punched something. The window, perhaps. He'd love to break something right now. Preferably Red John's neck, but he didn't have that option at the moment.

He happened to glance at the speedometer, and his heart stopped.

_I know that YOU know who has her._

_There are instructions inside. Do exactly as I say, or they both die an awful, painful death._

_Best of luck._

_RJ ;)_

He had to find them. He had to save them. He couldn't let them die. It'd kill him. Literally.

Calmly, quietly, he exited the vehicle, and made his way toward the cabin, slowly, pain overcoming him every step of the way.

XXXX

Her eyes opened slowly, her entire body aching. She reached tried to reach up to rub her sore head, but as she lifted one hand, the other came with it.

She was cuffed. And tied up.

You have got to be kidding me, she thought snidely.

She tried to sit up, but let out a sharp cry at the pain in her back.

"Charlie?"

Charlotte screamed, flying back against the wall, and moaning. Not the best idea. Pain on top of pain was an awful feeling.

"Charlotte, it's okay. It's just me."

"Lisbon?" she whispered, incredulous.

"Yeah, sweetie. It's me."

"What the hell happened to you?"

"He ambushed me."

Charlotte sighed. "Me too."

"Is Jane okay?" Charlotte could hear the worry in Lisbon's voice.

Charlotte swallowed, shrugging, even though Lisbon couldn't see it in the dark. "I don't know," she confessed. "I was unconscious when Red John took me."

"So was I. He knocked me out."

"With a car?"

There was a delay before Lisbon answered. "Um, no. Did he knock _you_ out with a car?"

Charlotte had to smile at how that sounded. "Well, yes. But I was in Patrick's Citroen. I wasn't just, like, crossing the street."

"Was Jane in the car?"

"Yeah."

"I hope he's alright."

Charlotte nodded. "Me too, Teresa." She sighed. "Me too."

Suddenly, they heard the squeak of a door opening slowly, dramatically. Charlotte tensed, holding her breath.

The hunter, sensing the tension in the room, chuckled. "Hello, ladies."

He flicked the lights on. Lisbon's jaw dropped. Charlotte swallowed hard. She had expected this.

They were staring straight into the eyes of Robert McGregor.

**Does that answer your questions?**


	17. Chapter 17

**YES! 100 REVIEWS! You guys rock! Thanks so much! **** At your requests, I updated as soon as I possibly could! I'm not going to lie. I was kind of pleased that you guys were so shocked by the identity of Red John. I was kind of afraid you'd suspect it, but I guess not! Awesome ;)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

He staggered through the door, yelping when his arm brushed lightly against the doorframe- _lightly. _That's how much pain he was in. His entire body was screaming. He was almost literally screaming. His brain, his heart, everything was hurt, confused.

But he was determined.

He wasn't going to let Lisbon and Charlotte die.

What he _really _shouldn't have let happen was pretty obvious. He shouldn't have let Red John take them in the first place. He should have protected them. Both of them. He should have thought things through. He should have known Red John would take someone else he loved, before taking his daughter. A distraction. That was just what he needed. Something to distract him, and the team, so he could swoop in and snatch Charlotte.

_Why _hadn't Jane seen that coming?

He had just let them slip through his fingers.

He couldn't think about that right now. He had to focus.

He had to get them back.

Charlotte was the most important thing to him now. Before she came along, before he found her again, the most important thing to him was finding Red John, and killing Red John. Jane had given up on finding his little girl years ago. He had just been hell-bent on revenge.

He finally found her.

And Red John took her. Again. Like he should have known was going to happen.

And Lisbon...

He shook his head. He couldn't think about that right now, either.

_Focus, Jane. Focus._

The cabin was nearly empty. A table. A rocking chair in the corner. Everything was wooden. The walls. The table. The chair. Everything.

He thought back to what Charlotte had told him and the team about what she remembered_. "I was in the dark for a while. And it smelled like wood."_ Jane had thought it had been useless information. But he now knew what she meant. She had been surrounded by wood.

He spotted a piece of paper sitting on the table. He hurried over to it, despite the pain in his legs. He glared down at the page.

_Hello, Mr. Jane._

_By the time you read this, I'll have your daughter. Again. Take some advice. You really need to protect her better than you have in the past._

_As you already know, I also have Miss Lisbon. Quite frankly, I've enjoyed her company. She's quite pleasant to talk to. She amuses me. Feisty, stubborn, sarcastic. Just like you, Mr. Jane. I know you love her, which is exactly why I took her._

_Do exactly as I say, or I will make your precious daughter and smartass little girlfriend my next victims._

_I'm sure you remember the barn you and your late wife loved to visit when you needed to get away. Yes, I know about that. I will be waiting with Teresa and Charlotte. Do not bring police. If I discover you have brought cops, I will kill the two women I am holding captive, and I will vanish. You won't find me. The next time you will hear from me is after I kill my next victim. A certain spunky redhead with a dazzling smile who you have grown so fond of._

_Don't keep us waiting too long. These lovely ladies have missed you._

_-Red John_

Hell no.

This was _not _happening.

First Lisbon. Then Charlotte.

Now he was targeting _Grace?_

He was going to find this son of a bitch, and he was going to kill him. He was going to cause him pain. He was going to make him suffer. He wasn't going to let him hurt them anymore.

He just hoped to God that it hadn't happened yet.

* * *

"Don't look so surprised, Agent Lisbon." McGregor smiled creepily. "You can't tell me that you didn't see this coming."

She closed her mouth, which had been hanging open. She didn't comment. She really _hadn't _expected this. That much was clear to Charlotte. She glared at her former foster-father, hating him more than she ever had before.

He looked at her, still smiling. "It's good to see you again. _Lela._"

Her jaw tensed. "Don't call me that," she said between clenched teeth.

Smiling smugly, McGregor pulled out a knife, turning it over playfully. "Or else... what? You'll mouth off to me? Don't you think you've done that enough in the past?"

Charlotte shrugged. "What are you going to do about it? Hit me? Shove me? Throw something at me? Oh, wait a minute. You've already done all that. Repeatedly."

"True. But now, I have a knife in my hand. I'd watch out if I were you."

"Charlotte. Calm down," Lisbon whispered.

The room was still relatively dark. The only light was a small lamp in the corner of the room, giving off just enough light to accent the features in Robert's face.

"What are you looking at me like that for, Lela?" McGregor asked, almost sarcastically. "_You _saw this coming, didn't you?"

Charlotte nodded. "It just doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't?"

"Ashlyn."

"What about Ashlyn?"

"You killed your own daughter?"

McGregor shrugged. "I did what I had to do."

"But you didn't _have _to do it."

"If I wanted to bring the CBI to you, then yes. I did."

Charlotte stared at him, dumbstruck. She suddenly realized _just _how sick and crazy Red John really was. Not just Red John. Robert McGregor. The man she had lived with. Her foster-father.

She gasped. "Darcy?"

A smile flicked across his face. He nodded. "She knows everything. She's what I like to call... an accomplice."

Charlotte glanced over at Lisbon, who was staring at the man, mouth hanging wide open.

"So... you killed your daughter, for no reason at all?" Charlotte asked him, still not sure if this was reality or just a dream. An awful, awful dream. "Darcy was _okay _with you killing Ashlyn? Your... your perfect, precious little princess that you two loved to spoil? Was it all just an act?"

"No, it wasn't an act. I loved Ashlyn. I didn't want to kill her. But I did what I had to do. She was getting a bit mouthy anyway." He threw a glance at Lisbon, who clamped her mouth shut.

"You didn't want to kill her... then why did you? I truly don't understand," Charlotte said.

"Do yourself a favor, Lela. Don't ask any more questions." He raised the knife, the light from the lamp reflecting off of it.

"Fine. But my name isn't Lela."

Lisbon shot her a look, as if to say, _Shut up or you're going to get us both killed._

McGregor shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough. What would you like to be called? Charlotte? Jane?" He glanced at Lisbon, smiling smugly. "Charlie?"

"How do you know about that?" Charlotte asked.

"I said no more questions, didn't I?"

"Well, to answer yours, Charlotte would be just fine."

"Lovely name."

She smirked. "Thank you."

McGregor glanced around him, gripped a chair that was near the door, and dragged it over to where Charlotte was sitting. He looked at her, pointing to the chair. "Sit in it."

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Charlotte," Lisbon hissed.

"I would suggest you do as I say, Miss Jane," McGregor sang. "Or you will regret it. Trust me." A wicked smile crossed his face. "Get in the chair."

Charlotte sighed, slowly working to stand up. It wasn't easy. Her hands were cuffed and her ankles were tied together, and her legs were extremely cramped. She looked at Robert, as if she had expected him to help her, but he just stood there, smiling smugly. Charlotte hopped her way over to the chair, falling back into it.

McGregor walked across the room, picked up something that Charlotte couldn't see, and walked toward her again. Charlotte saw that it was large rope.

Uh oh.

"You're a feisty one. I'm not letting you get away this time," he sneered as he began to tie his former foster-daughter to the chair.

"I didn't 'get away,'" Charlotte argued. "You dumped me on some random person's doorstep."

"She wasn't random."

"Who was she?""Darcy."

Lisbon gasped.

Charlotte's eyes widened. "_What?_"

McGregor smiled. "It was Darcy, going by a different name."

"Oh my God," Lisbon breathed.

McGregor glanced at her. "I know. I'm a genius."

"Uh, no. You're an ass," Teresa blurted.

_Oh no, _Charlotte though, throwing Lisbon a frantic look, who looked absolutely petrified.

McGregor shook his head slowly. "You _really _should have kept your mouth shut, Agent."

Charlotte watched as McGregor lifted the huge knife with a wry smile on his face, walking slowly toward where Lisbon sat.

"_No!"_ Charlotte screamed, jerking her body in Lisbon's direction. That didn't help her much. It just threw the chair off balance, and before she knew it, it was tipped sideways and her head slammed into the floor. Her vision blurred, and she blacked out again.

* * *

Grace looked up from her computer, jaw dropping. She flew out of her chair, rushing to Jane's side. "Jane! What happened to you?"

He brushed her off, shaking his head nonchalantly. "I'm fine. Really." He nodded, wincing at the pain.

"We have to get you to a hospital! What happened? And where's your kid?" She looked behind him, eyes scanning the room for the girl.

"She's gone."

Grace's eyes widened. "What?"

"Charlotte's gone. He took her."

"But-"

"Charlotte remembered a place where Red John took her. We went there, and he ambushed us. He hit us with his car. I was knocked out. He took her..." He trailed off, sighing.

"And you drove here?"

He nodded, limping over to his couch. "Surprisingly, my car would actually start. I didn't think it would. He hit us pretty hard."

"Let me drive you to a hospital. I swear, Jane, we're going to find them. Lisbon and Charlotte. We will."

"I trust you, Grace. And no, I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm just sore, that's all."

"He could have killed you."

"But he didn't." Jane paused, pulling out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "He left this. A note, in the cabin. Instructions on where to go. There's another clue there. I'd go there myself, but my car isn't strong enough. It'll die any day now, especially after the crash. I need you and Rigsby and Cho to go there, please, and find the next clue.""What will you be doing?"

"Waiting here. When you get the next clue, call me, and I'll go."

"You're not freaking out," she noted. "This is unlike you. You're up to something."

"No, I'm not up to anything.. I'm trying to stay calm. Like you guys said, panicking won't help."

Grace took the piece of paper from him, glancing at the directions. "Jane, this is three hours south."

"I know."

She eyed him skeptically. "You're sure this isn't just a trap?"

"Positive. It's just another clue. I wouldn't let you go if I thought it was a trap."

She nodded. "Okay. Why don't you take my car, in case you need to go somewhere? Sounds like yours is pretty damaged."

"My car is fine. Besides, what will you drive?"

"I'll take the SUV." Grace fished the keys from her pocket, tossing them onto the couch next to Jane. "Take my car, Jane. And please, if you change your mind about the hospital and you feel like you aren't in good enough shape to drive, just call... Minelli or someone. Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

She smiled, satisfied. "We'll get them back," Grace promised, referring to Lisbon and Charlotte.

"I trust you," he said again.

Grace gathered her things from her desk, including her bag and cell phone. "I'll call Rigsby and Cho on the way. We'll meet somewhere."

"Thank you, Grace. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it." She disappeared out of the bullpen, walking toward the break room. A few minutes later, she returned with a huge ice pack in her hands, setting it down next to him. "Use it. That's an order."

"Yes, boss."

"Bye, Jane. I'll call you." She threw him a little wave, and made her way toward the elevators.

He waited until he heard the _ding _of the elevator, and as soon as he knew Grace was gone, he stood up, suppressing a groan that was forming in the back of his throat. He reached down and grabbed the ice pack and Grace's car keys, staggering toward the elevators.

He had sent them south. He was going north. He did it to protect them. He did it to protect Charlotte and Lisbon.

Now, he was after a killer.

And when he found that monster, Patrick Jane was going to _become _the killer.

**Man, these people just can't catch a break. Review? Please? ;)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Wow, this is getting to be a long fic. It's almost done, I promise. :)**** This is a pretty long chapter, probably the longest in the entire fic, but it's pretty much wrapping things up.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Charlotte's eyes fluttered open, and she immediately rolled her eyes in annoyance as she remembered the events that had occurred before her latest blackout. McGregor was really starting to get on her nerves. How many times was he going to knock her out in her lifetime? Did he do it for fun, because she didn't find it very funny. It hurt, and frankly, she woke up with what seemed like a hangover. Not that she knew what that felt like. But right now, she had a raging headache and it seemed like her brain was pounding in her ears.

Okay, so this last time wasn't technically his fault, but he provoked it. If he hadn't been going at Lisbon-

Suddenly, she remembered.

"Lisbon!" she gasped, whipping her head around in the direction she remembered Lisbon sitting. Charlotte also remembered being tipped over in the chair. Now, she was sitting upright. McGregor must have done that.

She remembered Lisbon getting smart with McGregor, and he lunged at her with a knife...

She glanced frantically around the dark room. "Lisbon? Lisbon!" That cold feeling of sheer panic began running anxiously through her veins and her heart started pounding. What had he done with her? Was she still alive? _Please _still be alive. Please be okay...

Charlotte heard a faint groan to her right, and she whirled around. Or, tried to, anyway, but the chair kept her in place. "Lisbon?" She spotted the agent's weak silhouette curled in a ball not too far from Charlotte's chair. She couldn't tell if Teresa's eyes were shut or not. It was too dark. "Lisbon?"

"Y-yeah?" Teresa moaned, letting out a pathetic-sounding cough.

"How'd you get over there? What happened to you?"

"He hit me in the head with the side of the knife. I tried to get away..." Lisbon trailed off, not bothering to get into it.

"You look like hell."

"Thank you," Lisbon replied sarcastically. But Charlotte knew that she knew what she meant. Lisbon's hair was tousled wildly, like it was attacked by a rapid tornado. Her body was limp against the cold, hard floor.

"I didn't mean it like that." She paused, finally connecting with what Lisbon had said to her. "He hit you with the knife?"

"Not the sharp part."

"Oh, thank God!" Not that the serial killer hitting Lisbon with anything was good, but at least he didn't stab her or anything like that.

"Yeah. After he laughed at you for knocking yourself out," Lisbon half-joked.

"I was trying to save you."

Teresa laughed weakly. "You were tied to a chair."

"You're welcome, by the way." Charlotte looked around herself. "Where the hell are we, anyway?" She didn't think they were in the cabin anymore. The cabin she remembered seeing pictures of in the McGregors' house. They always used to love coming up here, according to Ashlyn. It was their 'home away from home' or something along those lines.

"A barn of some sort. I think," Lisbon told her.

"Why do you say that?"

"When he walked me in, it smelled like hay."

"Probably a slaughterhouse."

"Stop it," Lisbon scolded her, though wondering if Charlotte was right.

"Do you think I'm kidding?"

"So, what's his plan?" Lisbon asked, ignoring Charlotte.

Charlotte leaned her head back against the back of the chair, knitting her brows together. "Whose?"

"Jane's."

"Well... I don't think he has a plan," Charlotte admitted. She paused, smiling slightly. "He was _freaking_ out when he found out you were missing. He was snapping at everyone, even me. I've never seen him so panicked before."

"That's just how he gets when Red John is in the picture," Lisbon told her. "Trust me. I'm sure he was the same way when he found out you were missing." There was a brief pause. "Both times. And don't feel bad, Charlie. He snaps at everyone, for any occasion." She laughed a little.

Charlotte nodded, staring at the dark wall. "Lisbon?"

"You know, you can call me Teresa."

"But everyone else calls you by your last name."

"Yes, at work. You don't work for me. Or with me."

"Do you prefer Teresa?"

Lisbon sighed. "I really don't care. Anyway, what do you need?"

"When you met my dad..." Charlotte stopped, pondering how she should approach the question. She assumed it was one of those questions that made sense in her head but just confused everyone else when she asked it aloud. "Was he different?"

"Different, how?" Yes, it was exactly one of those questions.

"Different, as in... not the same."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "I know what 'different' means, thank you."

"I mean, was he the same as he is now? Guarded and all?"

Lisbon bit her lip, shrugging. "Basically. Just... not as happy."

"What do you mean?"

"After we got that phone call from the doctor, confirming that you were his daughter, he was ten times happier than he was before. You should have seen his face."

"That's not what I mean. This has nothing to do with me." Though that story did sound oddly appealing to her somewhat wounded ego.

Teresa huffed. "Well, then help me out."

"Before he got that call, before he even met me as Lela, was he different than when you first met him?"

"Are you asking me if working for the CBI changed him?"

"Yes," Charlotte replied, relieved.

Lisbon smiled, remembering when she first met Patrick Jane. Irritating and defensive and possessive, just as he is now. But not as annoyingly cheerful. "Yeah, I guess. I think his job at the CBI made him a little happier." Her smile faded, shaking her head. "But he wasn't just working for us so he could be happy. A _different_ selfish reason."

"He just wanted to catch Red John."

"Smart girl." Even without seeing Lisbon's eyes, Charlotte just knew that there was disappointment highlighting them. She could hear it in Lisbon's voice.

"There may be other reasons why he stuck around." Charlotte glanced at Lisbon with a smirk, waggling her eyebrows at her, an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

Teresa rolled her eyes. "You are such a smartass."

Charlotte laughed. "But seriously. All jokes aside - you have to know how he feels."

"No I don't!" Lisbon exclaimed. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Charlotte pursed her lips and widened her eyes in mock confusion. "Boy, I don't know!" she said in a fake-innocent voice. She looked up at the ceiling, as if she were thinking hard, and looked back at Lisbon, shaking her head as if she were confused. "Such a puzzler."

Lisbon just shook her head and leaned back against the wall, clearly not appreciating the sarcasm.

"Let's talk about it," Charlotte suggested in an annoyingly-cheerful voice that was identical to her father's. She was such a Jane.

"We're being held hostage and all you can think about is our love-life?"

"So you admit you're in love?"

Lisbon glared up at her. "No, and stop twisting my words around!"

"Why is it that you guys _always _deny it? To absolutely everyone! I'm Patrick's daughter. I should have a right to know," Charlotte pointed out. "I don't get it. Are you ashamed that you've fallen for him? Personally, I think he's a pretty great guy, but that's just me. And maybe I'm just saying that because I have to..."

"No, I'm not ashamed," Lisbon blurted without thinking, immediately looking away from Jane's daughter, who was beaming with irritating pride. "Shit," Lisbon muttered.

Charlotte started cracking up, grinning ear to ear. "I'm _so_ good that it's almost scary."

Lisbon just glowered at the wall. "Just let it go."

"If you admit your true feelings for my father, then I won't bring it up for another half hour."

"Charlotte..."

"Okay, fine. I won't bring it up until someone rescues us."

"What if someone doesn't rescue us?"

"Then you'll never hear me bring it up again. See? Problem solved. It's a win-win situation. We make it out alive, or you never hear me bother you about this again."

"You're twisted." Lisbon sighed heavily, throwing an icy glare in Charlotte's direction, which didn't faze the girl the slightest. She just smiled down at Lisbon with a curious, know-it-all look in her eyes.

"Fine," Lisbon finally mumbled, looking away.

"Fine... what?"

"You know what."

"I want to hear you say it."

"But-"

"Out loud."

"If we weren't tied up, I'd kick your ass right here, right now," Lisbon threatened darkly.

"You don't scare me. Besides, you wouldn't do that. You love me too much."

"Whatever."

"Come on, Lisbon. If you say it out loud, I will not bring it up until we're rescued."

"Fine!" Teresa growled. "I'm in love with your pain-in-the-ass, trouble-causing, annoying father." Hearing herself say the words aloud sent a jolt through her. It confirmed everything. All her doubts and suspicions. _Everyone's _doubts and suspicions, honestly. She'd finally confessed.

Teresa Lisbon was in love with Patrick Jane.

Wow.

Charlotte grinned.

"Who is exactly like _you_," Lisbon finished.

"That was an insult, right?"

"Yes, Einstein."

"I _knew _you had a thing for my dad. I had plots on the drawing board, plans to get you and him together, but your little confession just made it all too easy." Charlotte's grin widened, obviously proud of herself.

"Charlie, you promised you wouldn't bring it up again," Lisbon whined irritably.

"I'm sorry." Charlotte's smile vanished. "To be completely honest, I know my dad feels the same way about you."

"He thinks I'm a pain in the ass?"

"No. He's in love with you."

Before Lisbon could get a chance to respond, the door opened, and in walked McGregor, a smug smile on his face, sending shivers up and down Lisbon's spine.

"He's here," McGregor announced.

* * *

Jane pulled up in front of the familiar barn, feeling around his front pocket to make sure he still had the gun with him, even though he could feel it the whole ride over. It felt heavy, and uncomfortable against his hip. He supposed this was how Lisbon and the team felt all the time, but they probably just didn't notice. He had never felt comfortable with the possession of a gun. After he shot Hardy, he threw the weapon out of his hands as if it were burning him.

He didn't know if he was ready for this, which shocked him. After years of waiting, years of preparing and plotting and planning, he didn't know if he was ready. He was doubting his strength, and his courage. What if he wasn't strong enough to save them? What if he got them killed? He knew what Red John was doing. He was re-creating that awful night, eight years ago. He was planning to take away the woman he loved - _yes, he confessed -_ and his daughter. Jane didn't know what he'd do if he lost this battle, if Lisbon and Charlotte ended up dead. He just wasn't ready for this.

But he had no choice. He _had _to be ready, whether he actually was or not.

He tossed the icepack aside, along with the bottle of Tylenol he'd found stashed in Grace's glove compartment. His muscles and bruised - and possibly broken - bones were begging him not to get out of the car, to just relax and heal. It sounded so tempting, but he reminded himself that Lisbon and Charlotte needed him. More importantly, he needed _them _and he just couldn't lose them.

So he straightened up, opened the car door and slowly started making his way toward the barn.

The large door was cracked, so he slid it open easily. An uncomfortable draft greeted him as he stepped into the abandoned barn that brought back so many memories. It was dark inside. Of course it was dark. What would a sick, horror movie-like plot be without a dark, creepy setting?

Jane wandered inside, glancing all around him for a sign of his girls. "Hello?" he said loudly. His voice echoed against the walls. He shivered.

To his overwhelming relief, he heard the faint voice of his lovely boss in the distance. "Jane?"

"Lisbon?" he called out, hurrying in the general direction he heard her. "Lisbon, are you there?"

"We're back here!" he heard Charlotte shout.

Jane was sprinting now, toward the back of the barn, until he reached the stables. They all looked exactly the same as they did the last time he and Angela visited. The only one that looked different was the stable in the corner. Someone had built walls all around it, so it wasn't open like the rest of them. He reached for the door, but someone beat him to it. The door flew open, and he was shocked to be face to face with a smiling Robert McGregor.

McGregor held a pistol, aiming it directly at Jane's chest.

Jane allowed himself to glance behind McGregor, at the two women that were tied up and sitting on the barn floor. They both looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him to get them out of this hellhole. An empty chair was next to them, and Jane assumed that Red John - _McGregor - _had forced one of them in it to torture. Just the thought of it sent a jolt of anger through Jane.

"Hello, Mr. Jane," McGregor greeted him. "It's been a long time." He pursed his lips, thinking, and then shrugged. "I guess it's only been about a week since you've seen _me _in the courtroom, but as for my other identity, it really has been a while." He paused, scanning Patrick up and down. He reached out with his free hand, digging around Jane's jacket pocket and pulled out the gun he had stashed. Jane stiffened, already feeling defeated. McGregor smiled, shoving it inside his jacket. _Dammit. _Something behind Jane caught McGregor's eye, and he smiled, slightly surprised. "Hello, dear. I wasn't expecting you."

Against his better judgment, Jane glanced over his shoulder and cringed. Darcy McGregor was approaching, pointing an identical gun at Jane's back, smiling sinisterly. She looked around both Jane and her husband and nodded at Charlotte. "Well, hello there, Lela. Nice seeing you."

"Hi, Darcy," Charlotte replied sweetly. "Last time I saw you, you were slamming a door in my face. It's just lovely seeing you again." Her innocent, child-like voice was dripping in bitter sarcasm.

Darcy smirked. "And _you _were calling me a bitch." Her lips twitched as she glanced at the pistol in her hands, and back to Charlotte, who just rolled her eyes, not even bothering to pretend like Darcy scared her.

Darcy lowered her gun, strolling over to Charlotte and Lisbon with a smug smile on her face. Her husband was still pointing the gun at Jane, who was reading Darcy's body language, trying to figure out what she was doing. She wasn't going to kill them... not yet. What was she doing?

Darcy McGregor crouched down so she was at Charlotte and Lisbon's eye level. Her smile had disappeared, and Charlotte saw a look in her eye that she had never seen before. Not directed at her, at least. It was compassion. "I'm going to get you out of here," she whispered to them. The whisper was so soft that they could barely hear it, and it was clearly meant so her husband could not hear. At first, Charlotte thought she was just playing with them. But the look in her eyes was so sincere that she had to believe her. Charlotte just nodded, glancing over at Lisbon, who was trying not to grin stupidly in relief.

Mrs. McGregor straightened up, turning and raising her gun again. She pointed it straight at her husband. She took a step toward him, finger on the trigger. "Drop the gun, Rob."

Robert whirled around, stunned, though still keeping the gun aimed at Patrick. His eyes were wide as he stared at his wife. Clearly, he had not seen this coming. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she hissed. "Drop. The. Gun."

Robert nodded, bending down and setting the pistol on the ground, never taking his eyes off of his wife. He straightened up, raising both hands. "What are you doing, Darcy?"

"Getting my revenge," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"What are you talking about?" he asked uneasily. "I thought we were in this together."

Jane glanced at the gun that was at Robert McGregor's feet. He slowly inched for it, trying not to draw attention to himself. If he knew Red John - which he did - he knew that he probably had some sort of knife on him.

Darcy swallowed hard, biting her lip and shaking her head. "That was before you killed my daughter," she growled through clenched teeth. "The only thing in my life that actually made sense. The only good, clean thing I had. We lied to her, her entire life. She was the only one that actually loved me. And you took her away from me."

"You knew this would happen eventually."

"No. I didn't."

Robert took a cautious step toward her, a broken expression on his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I loved her just as much as you did. Truly I did."

Jane moved slowly, catching a weak-looking-Lisbon's eye and mouthing, _I'm so sorry._ Lisbon gave him a small, forgiving smile.

"It was just something I had to do." Robert reached up and stroked Darcy's cheek, brushing a tear away. And I will regret it for the rest of my life."

Darcy stared her husband down, tears still flowing out of her eyes. She let the gun decline in her hands a bit, letting her guard down for just a second.

A second too long.

Robert smacked the gun out of her hands, so quick that no one could react before he reached into his jacket and whipped out the gun he'd confiscated from Jane. Darcy's gun slammed against the wall. She stared at her husband in horror. Jane dove for the gun that Robert had set down, fumbling with it a bit.

"Goodbye, darling," Robert said. One shot, a shriek from Charlotte and a horrified gasp from Lisbon, and Darcy McGregor was dead.

Jane raised his pistol with shaking hands, aiming it at McGregor's skull. He was breathing hard, adrenaline overwhelming him. McGregor glanced up at him, pointing his own firearm at Patrick. McGregor was smirking at him, as if mocking him or contemplating whether or not Jane would actually pull the trigger.

"Give up, Robert," Patrick snarled as the two men began circling each other. "You've made my life hell long enough. You've succeeded in making me unhappy. Why can't you be content with that?"

McGregor chuckled darkly. "Patrick, Patrick, Patrick," he sang. "You're more naïve than most people give you credit for."

Charlotte and Lisbon were watching, trying to be as silent as possible as they attempted with all their might to untangle themselves from the ropes and chains, to not claim McGregor's attention. They weren't having much luck. No more than they'd had since they'd gotten there. But they knew Jane needed help, and they had to try.

"What's it going to be, Patrick?" Robert asked lightly, as if he were asking him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat, as buddies. "Are you going to end this, or shall I?"

Jane took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes and shifting his finger, which was placed on the trigger. He watched McGregor do the same.

One gunshot rang through the air, and someone fell...

**Who do you think pulled the trigger? Thoughts? Comments? Click that little review button, and make my entire day. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**So I know you all hate me for that terrible little cliffhanger I left. I felt kind of bad about it, and I was seriously going to update the same day **_**because **_**I felt so bad. But I was just so busy and I never got a chance to. But anyway, here it is! The last chapter before the epilogue. Enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

He stared at the lifeless, crumpled body of his enemy in confusion. He glanced down at the gun he was holding. He hadn't pulled the trigger, but his enemy had fallen.

Charlotte, his perfect little girl, was holding a gun in her handcuffed hands, and it was aimed at Red John. She must have retrieved the gun that had been smacked out of Darcy's hands while McGregor and Jane had been preoccupied, challenging each other. Somehow, Charlotte had rotated her wrists enough to get her aim perfectly, and she killed her foster-father. It was a lucky shot.

"How did you..."

"Neither of you were paying much attention to us. I just grabbed it." Charlotte dropped the pistol on the ground, looking up at her father apologetically. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered. "It's just that... well, you needed help."

Jane just nodded, still in shock. His innocent, harmless little girl had just shot a man. Not just any man, but _his _enemy. The man that had killed his wife (her mother.) Charlotte had killed him. He had always known that she was capable of so much, but he never would have expected this.

He took a deep breath and said, "Let's get you two to the hospital."

* * *

Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt all hurried through the revolving doors of the hospital, rushing to the front desk. The woman informed them which rooms their friends were in, inconveniently in separate hallways, so the three agents split up and went to different rooms.

Van Pelt visited Charlotte first, hesitating before going in. When she did, the young blond girl greeted her with a warm smile. "Hi, Grace."

Grace sighed, relieved. "Thank God you're alive," she gushed, going to Charlotte's side. "I mean, Red John was involved. I didn't know if-"

"I know."

"I'm just glad it's over." Grace paused. "So, it was McGregor, huh?"

Charlotte nodded. "Brutally murdered his daughter, shot his wife. Sick, right?"

"Very." Van Pelt nodded, looking at her with worried eyes. "_And _kidnapped and tortured his foster kid."

Charlotte shrugged. "Just a concussion and some bruises. I should be out of here by tonight."

"What about Jane and Lisbon?"

"The doctor told me that they'd be fine. My dad has three cracked ribs and a concussion, and Lisbon has a concussion." She smiled. "Funny how we all have concussions."

"Yeah, real hilarious."

Charlotte's eyes lit up, and she grasped Grace's hand. "Guess what!"

"What?"

"I got a confession out of Lisbon," she announced, beaming proudly.

"You did?" Grace grinned, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

Charlotte nodded. "Now, all we have to do is get them together."

"What about the rules?"

She shrugged, smiling mischievously. "Nothing a little hypnosis won't fix."

* * *

Jane walked into Charlotte's hospital room with his hands shoved in his pockets. "You about ready?"

She turned from the closet where her sweatshirt was stashed and nodded. "Yeah." Jane watched her pluck the hoodie from the hanger and shut the closet door, turning to face him. "Look, about McGregor-"

He held his hand up to stop her. "I'm glad that you killed him."

Charlotte flinched, surprised. "Really?"

Patrick smiled, taking a step toward her and putting his right hand on her shoulder. "Sweetie, if he had shot me first, he probably would have killed you and Lisbon, too," he said. "That is the _last _thing I wanted. You saved me. You saved all of us. I'm proud of you."

"But you wanted to be the one to kill him."

He shrugged. "Sure, but he's dead. I finally realized that it's all I really cared about. I just wanted him dead, out of the picture, so you and everyone else could be safe."

Charlotte's lips pulled into a small smile, but it faded as her eyes fell to the floor and she whispered, "Am I going to jail?"

Patrick put a finger under his daughter's chin and lifted her face so her eyes would meet his. "No, you're not going to jail."

"But I killed a man."

"Yes, but technically, it was self-defense."

"How? He wasn't pointing the gun at _me._"

"He was holding you hostage, and hurting you, and aiming a gun at your father, and you shot him so we could escape."

Charlotte pondered that, and then she smiled. "Okay."

"I love you, Charlotte," Patrick told her. "You are my hero, literally. And you always have been."

Her smile widened. "I love you, too, Dad."

* * *

Lisbon was waiting for them when they walked out of the hospital. She smiled at them. "Hey, Charlotte," she sang, turning and pointing toward the parking lot. Charlotte and Patrick followed her gaze, and Jane watched his daughter's eyes light up. Two kids, a boy and a girl, around Charlotte's age were grinning and waving, hurrying in her direction.

Charlotte turned to Lisbon. "Did you call them?"

Lisbon nodded, smiling. "I called Alex's mom, and she brought him and Macy here."

Charlie grinned, hurling herself into Lisbon's arms. "Thank you so much! I haven't seen them in ages!" With that, she backed away and started off for her friends, but not before giving Lisbon a little nudge and nodding in Jane's direction.

Jane chuckled as he watched his daughter sprinting into the arms of her friends. "That was really nice of you. I know she missed them."

Lisbon shrugged. "It was the least I could do. _She _basically saved the day."

He took a step toward her, tucking a curl behind her ear and watching her flush pink.

"Listen..." he began.

"Stop apologizing," she begged. "It wasn't your fault."

"I _am _sorry," he said. "However, that isn't what I was going to say."

She just waited for him to continue.

Jane hesitated, and then took a deep breath and said what had been on his mind for a while now. "You mean a lot to me," he confessed. "And I know that you knew that already, but I don't think you realize just how much you mean to me. You helped me track down that perfect girl over there..." He pointed at his daughter, who was still mingling with her friends. "You held my hand at the clinic, helped me with the whole moving-into-a-new-house thing, and you even held me while I sobbed like a child..."

Lisbon brought a finger to his lips. "We've been over this, Jane," she whispered. "You know that I'm happy to do all those things. I like being there for you. Truly, I do."

He took the hand that was against his lips and brought it down, though not letting go. "I was thinking..."

Her breathing shifted.

"Now that Charlotte is officially mine, and Red John is dead, and things will hopefully start to calm down," Jane went on. "I was thinking that, maybe, we could get past the whole 'just friends' stage. Dinners, maybe meeting your brothers. Dating, basically. Because I..." He stopped, glancing behind her and smiling. "Where'd your friends go?"

Lisbon sighed. She loved Charlotte, but couldn't she see that they were having a moment?

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Charlotte said apologetically. "Alex and Macy left. They're coming over later, if that's okay. They want to meet you."

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Well, carry on. Grace just called. She forgot her jacket in the waiting room and I'm supposed to go look for it." Charlotte started toward the hospital entrance, but then stopped and marched back toward Jane and Lisbon. "I just have to fix one thing..." She gave her dad a little shove, forcing him to close the gap between Lisbon and himself. "Perfect," Charlotte mused, giving them a thumbs-up and then hurrying into the hospital.

Jane chuckled. "She's not afraid of anything."

Lisbon smiled, and Jane looked down at her again.

"You were saying?" she prompted.

"Right." He nervously tucked another piece of hair behind her ear. "Dating. I think I'm ready. I finally have some sort of closure, and I have Charlotte back, and I... well, I think I might love you," he confessed.

She grinned, sighing with refreshing relief. "Thank God."

He returned the huge smile and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She let her eyes close as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It wasn't their first kiss, but it still made her heart pound like it _was _their first. She could feel his heartbeat against hers. Same thing.

When they broke apart, Lisbon stared into his soft blue eyes and whispered, "I love you, too, Jane."

He smiled, pecking her on the lips. "So, what do you say?"

"About what?"

"Dating."

She pretended to think hard, like she didn't already know what her answer would be. She built up the suspense, watching his eyes become frustrated when he realized what she was doing.

Lisbon laughed and answered him. "Yeah, okay."

**Ah, the fluff. One more chapter. The epilogue, set in the future through Charlotte's eyes. I hope you guys like it. It's kind of cute, I think so anyway. Maybe that's just because I like Charlotte so much, the little smartass she is. I thought about turning the next chapter into another fic, but decided against it and I'm just going to turn it into a short chapter. Thanks for reading! Review, please?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Your guys' reviews were amazing throughout the entire story. Thank you **_**so **_**much for reading and giving me suggestions and encouragement and feedback. You all rock and I am going to miss writing this fic. I hope you enjoy one last chapter, through the eyes of the sweetheart in this fic. Charlie Anne.**

**Disclaimer: not mine.**

_**Charlotte's POV**_

3 YEARS LATER

"Teresa. The baby is _fine,_" I insisted. "He just fell asleep."

"Maybe this was a bad idea," my frantic stepmother stressed. "Maybe it was too soon leaving him."

I sighed. "Would you relax? It's your guys' anniversary. Just enjoy it!" It had taken a lot of convincing coming from my dad and I to tear Teresa from her newborn son for just a few hours so my dad and stepmother could enjoy their anniversary. Now that she had finally left my baby brother in my care, she was changing her mind after being gone for twenty minutes. "Seriously. I have it all under control. I promise."

"Has he given you much trouble?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, he was actually smart-mouthing me a little while ago." I sat down at the kitchen table. "Please, just enjoy tonight. I know my dad was really looking forward to it."

Teresa sighed, before finally giving it a rest. "Okay. But I'm serious. Call me if you need anything. Anything."

"Got it. Have a good time. Love you." I hung up the phone before she had a chance to freak out again.

I set my cell phone down and took a sip of my tea, leaning back in my chair and glancing at the muffling baby monitor.

My name is Charlotte Jane, the proud older sister of two-month-old Beckett Samuel Jane. Beckett was born about a month after my sixteenth birthday, and ever since, he's been the center of our whole world. Our, as in my parents and myself.

My dad married Teresa Lisbon exactly two years ago, just after my fourteenth birthday. It really was no big shock to anyone that he'd finally propose. I was actually taking bets with Grace, Kimball, and Wayne on when he'd finally pop the question. They all claimed it wasn't fair that I was in on the bet, considering I _lived _with them and could read obviously between the lines. They were all shocked when the winner of the bet was the one and only Agent Wayne Rigsby. Ironic, right?

The wedding was beautiful. Nothing ridiculously fancy, but beautiful. It took place in Malibu, where I was apparently born. Kind of a long drive, but the beach was absolutely amazing. Teresa wore a gorgeous, simple white dress with a flower in her curls. She had a bouquet of lilies that she threw during the reception, which was caught by Madeleine Hightower. Grace was the maid of honor, and she did an amazing job. I was a proud, beaming bridesmaid and I was so happy that they were getting married.

Teresa is like a mother to me. Of course, I wish that my own mother were still here. I miss her. I got my memory back, and I remembered everything. My earliest memory was when I was three years old. My mom was looking at me with her brown eyes that lit up when she smiled. I was in the kitchen, eating my Easy Mac or whatever it was that she was feeding me. I was doing something that made her laugh, and I liked it when I made anyone laugh, like any other kid, so I kept doing it. That was my first memory. My beautiful mother laughing.

I remembered the night Red John took me. I woke up in a cabin that smelt distinctly of wood. I was scared, and asking for my mother. My captor told me that she didn't want me anymore and wasn't coming for me.

Little did I know that I'd be seeing him again, seven years later. I'd be twelve years old when I entered Robert McGregor's life again.

Anyway, back to Teresa and my dad. I know you're probably wondering about the rules. Those stupid rules that kept a distance between my dad and stepmom for years. I've got one word for you: hypnosis. The funny thing is, my dad had nothing to do with it. When I was thirteen, I cornered Gale Bertram while he was visiting LaRoche on a business call, performed a little hypnosis trick my dad taught me, and the rules were altered, so my dad and Teresa didn't have to hide their relationship anymore.

But no one knows about that, including my father. So, in case anyone was wondering, it _wasn't_ me.

After the rules were changed, I fully expected Grace Van Pelt and Wayne Rigsby to get together again. I mean, if they were together when the rules were the same, why wouldn't they get back together when they were changed? They were _clearly _still in love. But surprisingly, they were seeing other people. Grace had called it off with her jackass fiancée, Craig, which I had assumed had something to do with the changing of the rules, but no. She was seeing this guy named Connor, and Wayne has this on-again, off-again girlfriend named Kristy. Personally, I think Grace and Wayne are made for each other, so I may just have to help them out a little bit.

Again, it _wasn't _me.

Kimball Cho. I don't really know what's going on with him. Everyone keeps asking him what happened to his girlfriend, Alison? Or Ella? Elsie? Something like that. I've never met this woman, but from what Grace tells me, she was nice. Cho doesn't talk about her anymore.

Elise! That's her name.

As for _my _sappy teenage love life, it's like living in a very cliché romantic comedy. My best friend Alex became my extremely dependable, handsome, romantic boyfriend freshman year. It was kind of cute, actually. It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. He asked me to our very first homecoming dance. I said yes, and we went as friends. We were dancing, laughing, having a good time. We were hanging out with Macy and her date, Jacob, and when Macy and Jacob were dancing somewhere else, Alex surprised me by kissing me. It sent this strange feeling through me, and I wanted him to do it again. The song that was playing was _Turning Tables,_ a pretty song that basically described me. I originally wasn't going to let anyone close enough to hurt me ever again, but Alex had somehow broken the walls down. It's okay, though, because I know he'd never hurt me.

He and Macy have grown used to 'Charlie.' It took them a while, and they still have an occasional slip of the tongue and call me Lela. It doesn't bother me, though. It isn't their fault I changed my name... to my given name.

Summer is coming to a close, and I'm preparing to enter my junior year of high school. I get good grades. I'm good at math, and science, but my favorite subject is English. I drive myself to school every day, (that's right. Drive. I have a car. It's awesome) and go to class and pass every test I take. I study hard at home and when I'm stuck on something, Teresa helps me. Sometimes my dad does, but he normally recruits my stepmother, because he never went to high school and he wants me to get the best help I can possibly get. He and Teresa have already taken me on trips to scope out possible colleges all over. Teresa would love it if I attended a university in California, but my dad told me I could go wherever I wanted, if I kept my grades up. So that's what I'm doing. I'm keeping my grades up, deliberating on which school I want to go to.

But right now, at this very moment, I'm focused on Beckett.

I stood up from the kitchen table and walked up the stairs and down the hall to the nursery. The door was cracked, and as I poked my head in, I could hear my baby brother's gentle breathing.

I eased the door open slowly, trying not to make any noise. This kid wakes up at the lightest of sounds, I swear to you. The other day, my dad was at work and Teresa was taking a nap (she's still on maternity leave. At the end of the summer, she'll hire a nanny and go back to work.) The baby was asleep in his crib, and when I went to check on him, I accidentally bumped his dresser, and he awoke immediately.

Now, I tiptoed across the room to his crib and glanced down at him. He was so beautiful. He was beginning to develop hair, and we could already tell it was going to be Teresa's dark color. But his eyes were ocean blue. That was something Beckett and I had in common. We had the same blue eyes.

I'm going to be his favorite person ever. I'm going to teach him how to say _Charlie _and I'm going to teach him how to ride a bike. I'll help him with his homework and I'll call him every day from my college dorm room. I'll take him on vacation when I have a job and actually have money, and I'll let him pick out any souvenir he wants. I'll teach him the do's and don'ts of flirting with girls and I'll make sure he never gets hurt. I'll protect him, and he's going to love me because I can already tell he loves his amazing mom and dad, and I know that they love me.

We're the Janes. We might not be perfect but we're perfect for each other, and anyone that knows us will understand.

**The end.**

**I named the little Jane boy after my nephew, who I love to death. Happy birthday Beckett! I love you! :D**

**I'm sad that this is ending. I'm going to miss writing Charlotte's character :(**** Oh well. Thank you so much for reading! I have another fic in mind. It involves Jane and Lisbon. I'll give you a hint, with just two words. Blind, and date. ;)**

**Review? For old times' sake? :)**


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